How to Make Love to a Saiyan
by Caprice 6
Summary: A Bulma/Vegeta get together that exposes her ploy to touch Vegeta like no one has before. Will he fall to her clever plan? It's beyond simple seduction; it's making him feel things he could never imagine! The Saiyan No Ouji is about to be had. CH.27 UP
1. Epiphany

**Disclaimer:** DBZ is the property of the incredible Akira Toriyama. Thank you for Vegeta.

**AN:** This chapter has been revamped, both the prologue and the part titled "chapter one". It took me over a year after original publication to do so, but it was done to fit the rest of the story better. The previous version was the only remnant of a discarded draft of this story. I sincerely want to thank the people who gave this story a chance even with the old extremely poetic version of this chapter. Thanks for having the will to try something new, to not just read the first half of a chapter and leave a flame. I'll never forget that.

There's something else I truly want to say. Vegeta calling Bulma "slave" is not fanon. It's canon. I'm basing this directly on the original subtitled version of the anime, episode 124, where he refers to her as a "bothersome human slave." Please do bear that in mind. I have a perfect foundation and a perfect **right** to use this in my fic and I fiercely adhere to that. The story doesn't revolve around that premise per se, but you'll find glimmers of it around.

**Warning:** This story contains heavy swearing and adult situations and this chapter is extremely heavy with that. Don't carry on, honestly, if you're easily offended. There is plenty of light reading on the web to satisfy everyone's needs. I can't write about an intensely sexy and evil prince any other way. Finally, only the prologue to this story is written in first person. The rest unfolds in the traditional 3rd person with the exception a part that's written from Vegeta's POV on chapter two.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Prologue

Step 1: Acknowledgement

_Bulma's POV_

I'm crushed. And the name of the man is Vegeta.

You've got to remember what it's like to experience that first blush of passion. There must have been a time in your life when you wrestled in its grasp, when you suffered that spine tingling need for one single man. Anyone claiming immunity to the flesh and its primitive call is a blatant hypocrite. Its grab is possessive, a wildfire that spreads through your very soul, igniting you like a blazing supernova. I used to think it was a feeling reserved to high school but I was perfectly wrong.

I truly like him. I want him in a way I shouldn't, in a way no woman should want a man. I acknowledge that aching truth with courage and raise my chin to the consequences. I can feel myself perched on the verge of a bottomless pit and that pit is the black of his predatory eyes. Chills break throughout my frame, cruel and savaging every time I look into them. I'm the perfect prey to his dark allure.

I've been a mindless wreck for months now, writhing in the claws of obsession. The ladylike composure I've worked so hard through the years to accomplish has already begun to splinter. More than once my foot has wavered on a step, sending me gripping at the railing to avoid a fall. This morning I poured black coffee over cereal before catching myself distraught. And that's only the tip of the iceberg. The terrible effects are countless and are turning me into a clumsy idiot. It's been a while since I've felt this way. I've rooted around the corners of my mind, unearthing memories but there's nothing like it.

People claim life becomes a Technicolor diorama once you're hit by Cupid, that the world becomes alive with the colors of spring. The sun is supposed to glow more fervently, shedding its rays in smooth caresses over the world before you, but that's the stuff of children's stories.

Fairytales are a sham. Real passion doesn't involve the token woodland creatures that break into song. The substitute for chirping birds and gentle does are perfectly normal cats that spit furr-balls and chase mice around the atrium. No fairy godmother comes forth to wrap you up in gossamer and thrust you in the arms of the wholesome prince, who by the way seems more than ready to _also_ shower you with songs.

Women in those stories catch their man's attention with as little as a bat of their eyelashes. They never grapple with the heat of their burning loins nor do they suffer the whiplash of their body's unfulfilled desires. Prince charming waits for them thrown over a bed of roses, scaring the hell out of their virginal selves with the thick hard proof of his carnal intentions. Seeing the women are untouched, they chase them around the bed in their wedding night, abandoning their heart-felt croons for much lustier endeavors. Those perfectly demure maidens have the meal served. All they need to do is eat it. I on the other hand, have none of his attention and it's maddening.

I lean my cheek on the cold metal door of his gravity capsule, wondering why I differ so much from the perfectly chaste images depicted on those books. No wonder I dropped them for science journals at the tender age of six, much to my mother's chagrin. The icy sheet of chrome sears my flesh as I lick my lips with deliberate slowness. I've never wanted anything more in my life. He's the broken prince of my dreams, a black knight in dilapidated armor that walks the smoldering coals of an inner hell. His skin isn't pristine perfect like that of patented princes. It's marred with multiple white scars that line over his back, the gruesome evidence of horror stories I'm dying to hear.

He spends his days buried in self-martyrdom, making incandescent love to the floor of the gravity capsule in the form of pushups. His every movement is unfailingly controlled, his entire body wooden hard as his hips lever up and down hypnotically. Sweat beads in his temple, trailing lazily down the curve of his face until it reaches his strong jaw. I slide a digit with equal languor down the surface of the door, longing for the briefest touch. He flips over with the grace of a seasoned warrior, folding arms behind his long black hair that's now tussled and damp. He then touches his elbows to his knees repeatedly, not a gram of fat in his sculpted body. I can see his lungs expand from the porthole, skin wrapping his muscles tightly like golden toffee over bulging steel. My fingers leave damp imprints over the exterior, an uncontrollable need careening through my body. He's everything and more I ever wanted in a man, raw power and sharpened reason, driven and strong in ways unheard of. He's a primal fantasy come true, the perfect object of any woman's desire and the alpha call to my damsel in distress. His sun-kissed figure howls danger while begging to be licked and that, as far as a male goes, is a perfectly lethal combination.

Real men awaken the dormant instinct that makes you want to lap up every drop of sweat in the middle of the night. Their gift is the sight of hard calves and strong biceps being tempered in the fires of training. The one song I'm willing to hear is the sound of his name whispered amidst gasps of eye-rolling ecstasy.

Vegeta.

True bliss is the musk of his perspiration as it reaches me. He evokes thoughts of flesh searing flesh in a dance of longing, of calloused hands sliding down my torso.

The craving is mouthwatering, the kind that makes you bear your fangs in animalistic fashion before a juicy slab of meat. It's enticing like molten chocolate over velvety ice cream. He's a girl's bane, the type parents warn you about and you still go ahead and fuck.

When he enters the room, he's marvelously imposing and powerfully commanding, his badness wafting off him irreverently. Men like that should be illegal. He's a glistening display of beautifully toned flesh pressed hard between skin and bone. And to my own misfortune, he's thoroughly forbidden. He's technically my enemy, a foe whose ire simmers under a wobbly truce. His sinuous gait is that of a deadly animal, a jaguar ready to snap his jaws at the barest touch.

But I don't let myself be fooled by his aloofness. When I look into his eyes I can see black fire, a fest of scorching flames that both frighten and excite. My stomach tightens every time he looks at me, every time the icy heat of his pupils brushes the blue of mine. I curl my expensively polished nails in the armrests of my couch, scraping the leather for the second it lasts before he turns away and leaves me cold and barren. His absence is an immeasurable loss and it feels like I'm abandoned, left alone to burn among my thoughts.

My female companions choke on their own saliva in the wake of his arrogant stride. He doesn't seem to notice their reaction and even if he did, he wouldn't give a damn. He's perfectly unaware of the sparkling set of studious eyes. Visions of him looking dark and slender, cloaked in king-like grace are the only thing he's willing to share but it's much too little for my ambitious self. Not that mamma or her tea-party friends have any complaints. My life-giver sits in the den amidst delicate cake samples, pleasantly watching him go about his menial business in shorts so tight they're practically indecent.

"Oh Bulma, don't you want a bite?" I nearly spilled coffee on my expensive DK blouse the day she twittered that. I almost lashed out in mortified embarrassment, then I noticed the piece of strawberry pie she gleefully held in her dainty hand. There was a devious glint to her eye, one that made me narrow my own gaze before snatching the sugary treat and stuffing my face with its creamy goodness. Oh yes I wanted a bite. I wanted a long tasteful bite but momma's too dangerous a woman under that deceiving smile. I'd never confess the depths of my lust.

You'd think I would have made a move by now, and to be frank, I sure have. I'm Bulma Briefs after all, and I'm used to being instantly gratified. The infallible sway of hips and the proverbial flick of hair are powerful weapons in the fields of sexual war but that man's core is fortified. His indifference is exasperating. He doesn't seem to want me. Why doesn't he? Everybody does. I'm a beautiful, smart woman. I _know_ that. Any man on earth would kill to have me in their arms. _Crème de la mer_ has made my skin smoother than porcelain. Privileged genes have given me lips redder than cherries, tart and ripe for the picking. Sonnets have been sung in my name, the color of my eyes compared to the sapphire depths of the oceans far too many times. I'm used to demanding men jump and hearing them answer 'how high', but to him I'm a lowly subject, a food purveying wench. I, in his eyes, am nothing but a slave. That's his name for me, drawled out in deep octaves whenever he pleases.

Was he the same with every other woman or are his mordant slurs the way to punish me for my sins, for being on the opposing team? His reticence has nothing to do with his virility. It wafts into my nostrils and slides over my tongue like woodsy silk, like a strong brand of well-aged whisky. It lures my inner female in raw notes of musk and spice, a tell-tale sign of hard work and sweat. He's the red-blooded kind that slides into your womb and makes it flutter. Lord knows how many women he's shown that prowess to in the middle of the night. But for me he's nonchalant. The subtle cues that make others salivate like a hungry pack of dogs garner nothing from him but a finely raised eyebrow. I can tell he's good at tormenting women.

He stalks through my mansion with a heartless look in his eye, looking at us over his shoulder, like we're little beings in his grander scheme for cosmic domination. Then there's that considerate way of making demands. Don't women just adore it when the object of their fascination lashes out like a viper and orders them around? He lowers long raven lashes and glares at me from the corner of his eye, expecting obeisance. I shouldn't care that he does. I should walk away and give him a perfect view of my ass, but I can't and that fact alone is enough to rile me up.

I snarl up at him when he calls me slave girl but there's a flame of exhilaration in my eyes and a gathering of spit in my mouth. His rich dark tone is so guttural it rumbles. It takes me to uncharted places where the one dominant power is lust. That's when I know how dangerous he truly is. He's turned me into my own worst enemy. Me, a wealthy heiress renowned for her looks, popular enough to have modeled for the sleekest fashion magazines, melting under the taunting insults of a chauvinistic prick. If the media knew I've been reduced to a manner of slavery they'd have a field day. They'd tear me limb by limb, then drink Chandon right off my skull. I can see the tabloids and their vicious headings; the richest girl in West City, desperate to ride a murderer.

I'm hand-tied, frustrated and aroused, all at the same time. I've turned into a tongue lashing, ball-breaking bitch, far beyond my normal levels of vindictiveness. Any poor bastard over at the Capsule Corporation's headquarters or the science lab unlucky enough to cross my path can more than testify to that.

I shouldn't be so upset. Really, I shouldn't. I'm surrounded by perfectly good men, well-born lads with Ivy League titles and a penchant for tennis at the country club. They've paraded through my lavish office in expensive suits and heavy colognes since my ex and I parted, going after my status, my body and my money like hungry sharks. They take my hand into their well-manicured ones, promise gold, jewels and romance, but I'm off in thoughts of rough hands and cold black eyes.

I set foot in my bedroom flushed and frustrated from long days untouched. I'm a sleek corporate vision but my prison of cashmere is more than uncomfortable. My legs are constrained by nylons, feet aching in their black patent binds. Long hours immersed in thoughts of him tend to leave my skin sensitized, chaffed by thick scratchy lingerie.

There's only one man in my mind every time I undress, my hands skimming down the alabaster flesh of my hips in an erotic ritual only I am privy to. I take my time, eyes drifting closed as I reach up to mold hands over my ribs. I then follow along the concave curves of my waist intimately. I want his hands curling into the edge of my panties, pulling them down over my swaying thighs to uncover the hungry flesh beneath.

I throw my head back, teal tendrils slowly unfurling from my shoulders to hang down and graze at the curve of my bottom. I can scent his dominant spore growing around me even though he isn't present. It laces through my blood like a potent narcotic, a brand of man that should be banned. The slightest brush of his hand is enough to bow my spine and I'm distinctly aware that no one ever achieved so much with so little, such thirst without intention. I've known the treatment of a lady all my life, lavished in roses and balmy words of flattery. It's been nice and insipid, perfectly right and thoroughly boring. But this is ravenous hunger, every swollen pore crying for defilement.

I loll my head to the side and eye the palatial bed. It mocks me with its emptiness, the neat folds signifying sterile nights. It's the first time I meet a man so uncaring about my name, someone who sees me as nothing but human. I feel naked when he looks at me, as naked as I am now, leaning over to stretch across the canopy. The sheets welcome me, embracing me in their cool depths. He should be here, wrapped between Egyptian cotton and eager to meet my demands, but he isn't.

I sigh, like I'm sinking into his body and drowning in that godlike power. I have a right to him. I dragged him home like a stray cat; I might as well get something in return for my efforts. I go out of my way to ensure his Saiyan appetite is properly satisfied, certain Pappa's there to tinker with his training toys. The female in me loves him clad in silk Armani robes, clothed in the sexiest low-rider jeans money can buy. There's nothing I don't make available to him even though his taste is austere and his regimen military. Perhaps that's where my error lies, in letting him take me for granted.

My lips graze the fluffy pillow beneath me, palms gliding over the hollow of my rib cage and down the flat plane of my midriff. I've finally found my equal, a man powerful enough to truly challenge my mind. For years I've reigned over my own empire, a ruthless queen on an ice throne but he's slowly made me forget that. He makes me want to yield to his every little demand. I fist the sheets in my hands and grimace, struggling to remember who the master is. If I don't reach out and try to seize control fast he's going to twist my mind beyond repair.

I'm going to make him fall despite the warnings in my mind. He's much too tempting to ignore. Only a genius of my caliber could wield the tools to achieve that, the scientist in me eager at the prospect of uncovering his secrets. Taming a wild creature could sure be fun.

It's a matter of survival, a way to ensure I don't somehow end up losing reason and logic forever. The sooner I act the quicker I'll strip him off his enigmatic persona and squander this god-awful feeling.

I cup that narrow strip of blue over my pelvic mound, another palm smoothing over my sternum to repose between my breasts. I want to leave my indelible mark on him, to get right where no woman has. I want to do things to him he'll never forget and erase any horny bitch he indecently fucked in the process. He's going to remember my name, Bulma, for a lifetime and a half. I'll be the one to figure him out.

No one has to know. In my scientific book no manner of slipping is allowed. I've already concocted the perfect contraceptive in the darkest corner of the lab, aided by a sample of his DNA taken surreptitiously. The viscous liquid in every shot I'm already giving myself should be enough to effectively counter Saiyan virility and avoid a pregnancy. I'm brilliant like that.

People say some fantasies are better left unexplored, I say nothing can break me. The only danger's leaving them unresolved, allowing their acid to eat away at your insides until you're left a cracked up shell.

_Don't you dare interfere_.

The memory of his voice perks a nub to attention between my thighs, the muscles in my legs clenching painfully. They're taut with expectation, electrified with need but I slowly melt under my own exhaustion. I fall into deep slumber and begin dreaming. I'm in his Spartan room ready to make my intentions known like a strong, valiant woman. A part of me wants to wake up, but the dream unravels, a twisted tale of unnamable things.

In my head I'm sauntering in his direction, ready to assert myself before the prince of arrogance. My white teeth gleam between parted lips, as scarlet as fresh blood. I'm wearing nothing but neck-breaking heels and a sheer black teddy so transparent there's not much left to the imagination. The shoes are torture devices, the rise of the stiletto violent in its shape and needle-like sharp, every bit as fierce as my stance. They are meant for fully grown women, girls dare not apply. A strapped ankle bends slightly, the long, interminable leg it belongs to poised in dominant grace.

He sits on the edge of his narrow bed, looking every inch a lazy tiger, his back casually braced against the shadowy wall. His jeans are dark delicious denim, perfectly molded to the thickness of his thighs. They cling dangerously low on his hipbones, lending him a rough and tough air that clashes with his laid-back demeanor. He isn't even touching me and I'm already reacting, a bubble of anticipation popping in my core.

His endless black lashes rise, unveiling the ungodly power of those eyes. I get lost in the soft contours of his lips, the plump fullness that begs to be chewed on. The gleam of his biceps and torso steal my gaze away, a thin coat of sweat covering him. His belly button dips temptingly, a tight expanse of bronze calling for a kiss. The muscles ripple rhythmically under the velvet tan of his skin as he gently swipes himself with a towel. He lazily drags the cloth around his neck, over his Adam's apple and down the indentation in the middle of his chest. I gulp, caught in the slow deliberate motion, figuring his body's still hot and damp from a push-up session.

The deeply cut lines between his pelvic bones and his abdominal muscles lead straight to the metal button on his pants and a blue brow wings in anticipation. It's all I can do not to offer myself for a much more interesting way to pass the time. He can do push-ups over my prone body all night long if he wants to. A good hostess always aims to please…

He looks at me, bottomless eyes promising nothing and everything at once. "The old man's daughter?" He cocks a raven eyebrow in amusement. "Well, isn't that a surprise."

There's a curl to his mouth that cries devil, that conveys nights of total wickedness. I fill up my lungs and remain as still as a doe caught pasturing by a monster, tongue tied and mesmerized. His eyes filter through my curves in roguish abandonment, knees threatening to buckle under his deep scrutiny. He wants me. He knows deep down he'd like to have a go with me.

"Is there something you need, human slave? Speak or get out. I dislike wasting my time."

I purse my lips in indignation and tighten my brow as the atmosphere becomes nerve-racking. He deliberately avoids referring to my near nudity and that in itself is more than exhilarating. Neither one of us acknowledges the fact that we're more than eager to fuck but it hangs heavily in the thickening air. He's barefoot. That intimate knowledge sends heat rollicking down my inner walls. I'm grave with my expectation but lift my gaze defiantly, raking it over his powerful frame.

"You egotistical prick, you seem to believe I am some sort of personal wench, which I'm not. I'm the most important woman alive. Who are you by comparison? You've got nothing but the clothes on your back. You'd be sleeping in the street like a derelict if I hadn't hauled you in. You should be eternally grateful." The blue of my eyes darken as I look him over in mulish self-confidence. He's mine. I could buy him if I wanted to. "I always get what I want. Nothing to me is ever denied."

His smirk only amplifies, making the corner of his lips twist up alluringly. He seems bemused, a large cat reveling in the pleasure of an easy catch. He looks at me like he's going to split me open and gobble me up, then lick his fingers one by one. He hangs the towel on his neck and leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

"Well, there are things you simply cannot have. Didn't your mother teach you that?"

"I don't think you fucking understand. Everyone plays by my rules and you aren't an exception." He chuckles humorlessly in his throat and eyes me like an impertinent little problem in desperate need of a proper fix. He's got his game plan already figured out, I can see it in the pitch black of his eyes. He's a master strategist and I'm merely a pawn. There's an invisible sizzle of raw energy cloaking him, something pulling at me and charging the air. It engorges my every pore and tightens my breasts to stark attention.

"Is that so." He glares at me, his tone not in the least perturbed. In fact he exudes remarkable control, a menace in the hard glint of his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what you want then? You're a disrespectful girl with a dirty mouth. You should have no problem asking for it appropriately."

He effectively corners me, deeming me a frightened victim and I suddenly have trouble coming up with a proper response that would make me proud.

"I…"

He chases me inside, a wolf preying on my lamb, twining around my synapses with ease. He tisks in dissapointment. "If you don't tell me what you want, how am I supposed to know?" His voice is rich with false concern, a trap set in its husky cadence. My fight or flight instincts kick in and I choose the fight, even though he's obviously a superior hunter. His words are velvet chains, perfectly tough vices of seduction.

The inhuman heat of his body is strong, reaching out and washing over me to fire up every cell. His eyes remain locked on me, a three quarter profile and an inquisitive eyebrow ready for the kill. I'm suddenly angry at the injustice of the scenario. No one has a right to be so spine-tightening intense. Gradually I bring my gaze to mesh with his, just in time to see him signaling at the door and locking it up with the force of his ki. "We're perfectly alone now. Do you have any ideas on how we should pass the time?"

He carelessly tosses the towel aside and leans back, spreading his legs wide. He allows me a visual overkill of his perfect body, of his narrow waist and naked hips. There's a cruel smile on his kissable mouth as he speaks.

"I can't hear you, slave girl. You walk in here acting high and mighty and fail to speak for yourself. What is it you want?" There's condescension in his voice, a heavier brand than usual, but there's also a challenge I know I'll take. "It's just you and me. Your parents are asleep. I'm sure you're aware of that or you wouldn't be here otherwise."

He turns my legs to mush, makes my most private regions blaze up to a raging inferno. "I want to…" _I so want to fuck you right now. I want to ride you till you're sore._ I'm thinking it, but I can't bring myself to finish the line. I want him answering to me and not the other way around. I especially don't want him making me go beyond my acceptable levels of indecency.

"You want to what?" He coaxes persistently, still putting me on the spot like the bastard he is. The way he's slouched drags my glittering eyes straight to the apex of his thighs, where his bulging flesh lays sheathed. I find myself curling my fingers and licking my lips absently.

"I want to taste."

"Oh?" He arches a brow inquisitively. "What is it you want a taste of?" He drops his query on me like a powerful bomb, sending my heart into a frenzied gallop. An unintelligible sound crawls from my throat. His face remains implacable as he patiently waits on me, looking deceivingly inviting.

My womanly instinct cries a soul splitting howl of self-preservation but I can't be dissuaded. I'm already bent on possessing him. I'm not some spineless bimbo and I'm sure as hell not intimidated by his Saiyan might. My mouth is more than willing to ask for what it covets. "You. I want to taste you."

He immediately looks pleased; so much the feeling is nearly palpable. "What a nasty little girl you are. Do your parents know where you are?" I firmly stand my ground, glaring at him through beautifully made up eyes, taking his slurs like a woman. "Do they know what you want to do with me?"

I whip my hair over my shoulders in defiance. It cascades luxuriously, a sapphire waterfall of long heavy curls. He snorts, not waiting for my response. Instead he tilts his head and lounges back, looking every bit the conceited bastard he is. "Of course they don't. They can't sense what I do."

"Oh yes? And what the hell is that." I narrow my eyes to blue slits of fire and hold his gaze brazenly.

He inhales the air between us, taking in my every scent, from the wild berry shampoo to the flowery sweat. He then bares a fang and purrs like a panther scenting his next meal. Every blood vessel sparks to life, every hair on my skin standing on end. "That you're wet, and you're a bit of a whore, and you want to show me how much."

His lack of political correctness is infuriating. I go wide-eyed but remain stoic, proud and unshrinking under his insults. "Can you smell that on me, you asshole?"

I stare him down sullenly, rosy lips drawing into a tight pout of indignity. I know he was meant to rule, he just wasn't meant to rule me. It's about time I show him that.

His face hardens into a granite cast but there's an air of ease about his every nuance. "Shhh. Be careful with that mouth, or I'll put it to better use. Be weary how you talk to your superior. Servants have no rights as far as I'm concerned. They're supposed to respect their training dutifully."

"I am not your servant, I am not your handy-man, and I sure as hell am not a 'slave girl'. But you…" My eyes soften to liquid pools of blue seduction, meant to lure him into a paradise of pleasure. "I can remind you who you are. You're a man and every man has got needs. Your heart pumps strongly, red hot blood that flows like well distilled liquor. Your body was meant for women like me, women who can work it until the break of dawn."

I run the tips of my fingers over my chest, then place them lightly over the thin straps of the teddy. I want him thinking of skin upon skin, dark bronze rubbing slickly against the silken white of my own. His sinister gaze skims the lacey garment, tracing it down slowly to park on the small thatch of blue hair that darkens the mesh. I can see the smooth surface of his lower abdomen tighten under the weight of his own basest desires.

He narrows an eye. "You want to fuck a perfect stranger? You don't even know me. You have no idea what I'm capable of doing to you."

"All I know is you would more than happily oblige if I said I wanted you, Vegeta. You wouldn't resist the thought of me. No one does."

Breasts feel so heavy their weight pulls against my spine. The hardened buds grow darker and thrust hungrily against the mesh, ready for the onslaught of his tongue. I know it would feel rough and velvety, wet and agile as it flicks over them. I can tell he'd be incredibly good in bed.

"I'm a fine example of what an earth woman is, more than fit to please any man and you're a great example of alien prowess. We're both fully grown adults so don't tell me what I can and cannot do." I sound like a spoiled princess, but then again I am. I'm past caring about my flaws.

His face turns darker and his slanted smile acquires a sharper edge of cruelty. "No. You're a commoner and I'm a prince and you're stepping well over your boundaries, bitch. You think I'd sink as low as to touch you? What would royalty want with the daughter of an inventor?"

I widen my eyes in disbelief. What the hell does it take to get the man in the sack?

"Jerk." The word comes out as a purr, pouring over him like an intimate caress.

Something stirs to life in his eyes as he watches me and my bottom tenses in primal instinct. "It takes far more than you bearing your body like the little slut you are for me to comply." With that he slouches down until his hips repose entirely against the mattress, upper body curved against the wall. He slowly draws a finger to point at the floor and gives me a positively dark look. "It takes you on your knees, showing me the extent of your need. Why don't you try and convince me? Try hard and I might reconsider."

I open my mouth in disbelief, fighting the urge to stalk over and slap him across the face. I know he expects me to flee like a craven little girl, but he's in for a surprise.

"Okay. Good." I snap, sinking to the floor with feminine grace and utmost resolution.

He smirks at me with half hooded eyes. "Good." He counters, more than a bit amused at my predicament.

It's hard to say no when you've got top of the line cock served so temptingly. I chant a million excuses in my mind, trying to chase any nagging concerns away. He's got to do more than training, doesn't he? Someone has got to help him relax and I don't see anyone else around.

I look at the prominent swell under his fly and slide my palm over it with dead-set determination. My mouth floods instantly and my eyes become veiled with desire. Slim, French-manicured fingers fidget with the metal button and snap it open roughly, then draw the zipper back on its tracks to unwrap him like some succulent meal.

He's wearing denim over naked skin. What's he thinking? He's going to chafe that amazing length under the coarse friction of the jeans. The seam could abrade the set of royal jewels he's been so generously endowed with. This can't be left to happen under my own roof to my very own guest. It's time he's shown some TLC. My hands nearly ache with poorly checked want as I pull him free from his confines. His shaft juts unashamedly from between the open halves of his jeans, wet and ready for my tongue. My fingers begin curling over it studiously, banding over the impressive flesh but he quickly knocks my hand away.

"I didn't say you could touch me, now, did I slut?"

I pout in disappointment and knit my brows into a frown. "But I thought you wanted me to…"

"Don't presume to know me or what I want, slave girl. I'm not your fuck toy. Have a go, but do without your hands. No servant's good enough to so carelessly touch her master." He slides his fist over himself until he reaches the base, angling the flesh at my lips and looking at me authoritatively.

Not once do I break eye contact as my palms slide hungrily up over his jean-clad thighs. I swipe my tongue over my lower lip in preparation before taking him in my mouth. He releases himself and lays arms at his sides before tipping his head back against the wall. He tastes like the heat of the sun, his sweat a strong salty flavor that's both raw and untamed. My nails scrape down the denim on his legs and he grows impossibly thick, dripping with transparent desire. The muscles in my mouth contract and I feel a soul deep ache to slither my hands over his torso, to fan my fingers over his chest and glide them down over the few veins lacing his biceps and forearms.

"… that's nice". He says gruffly, twining sapphire strands of hair around his fingers possessively.

He's pure potent musk melting over my tongue but he's much too big. My jaw widens to accommodate him fully, but it becomes an impossible task so I quickly release him to the cool air around us. "I don't think any woman can take you whole, Vegeta. I can't go any further."

He snorts in contempt, black eyes glaring down at me. "You will if you want to please me."

I do. I want to play with him, to curl him around my tongue and see him ride the pleasure I give him but my jaw needs time to recover. I brace my hands on his heavy thighs once more and rebel against his will. Instead of tending to the beautiful red tip of his, my mouth dips down and opens wide over his lower belly. I avidly lick that sunken portion between his hip and his six-pack, leaving a hot wet trail along it. The laddered hillocks on his abdomen contract under the swipes of my tongue, but it's only when I delicately kiss his navel that his stomach jolts with electricity.

He growls threateningly and plows his hand deep into my hair, wrenching back so he can look me straight in the eye. His eyes are fraught with death, seething at me. They issue a terrible warning, claiming without words that he's a dangerous species and will do unspeakable things to me should I continue my treacherous ways.

I'm back to sating him under the steady pressure of his fist, peeking at him beneath the curve of my lashes. He's reclining, looking every bit an ode to manly decadence.

As he finishes he barely flinches, looking all the most severe. I wet my lips, taking in the cherry taste of lip gloss and the distinct flavor of his seed. He then tucks his still throbbing shaft back into the deep blue denim and briefly looks me over. I'm breathing heavily, hair fluttering against my mouth as I stare back tense and kneeling, a prey studying her chances for survival.

"You may leave now, under one condition."

He grabs my chin and pulls my face roughly to him, fingers sinking into the hollow of my cheeks painfully. The side of his lips twitches as he utters an ominous phrase. "Say _thank you_."

"Son of a bitch" I answer, and all he does is laugh deeply, that bone chilling chuckle woven with evil. The sound tapers down but he remains roaming in the depths of my irises, unearthing the reality of who I am, the things nobody knows

I attempt to free my face from his steely grasp but the effort proves futile until he roughly lets go. The inertia rocks me back and I fall on my bottom, my hands braced to the side.

"You haven't said _thank you_ and mercy is not one of my virtues. When I call upon you next time, you will regret it."

I immediately wake up, heart pounding like its running a race. My eyes are open but unseeing, breath shallow in the silk and lace dominion of my bedroom. Was that a dream or was it a nightmare? I'm uncertain what to call it but I'm glad it's over. His words sail me to new unmitigated heights of sensation but I know he's not my friend and he never will be. Lust is a double-edged sword. I may have brought him into my home but I'm not deluded. I didn't inherit the benevolent character of my parents or their carefree disposition. I know what drives him to train so relentlessly and what his ulterior motives are. He wants my friends, my very brethren, dead, and I along with them. His ultimate goal is to crush Chikyuu in his iron fist and leave it a heap of smoldering shambles.

I'm supposed to keep him on a leash, to remain prudent and vigilant of his every move but geniuses are pragmatic. Those haunting eyes have made me lose my mind and the dream proves it. I sigh against the pillowcase, hoping to catch some sleep before morning comes to claim me. It's good it was only a dream.

Soon I'll step into uncharted territory and tease the devil, but not today. Nothing could further intimidate me. There's no point in running from the twisted fairytale that my life is, in denying myself what I truly want. So help me Kami and all the deities alive.

I want to make love to him.

**Chapter 1: **

Step 2: Know Your Enemy

He was as complex as the patterns of light dancing in a diamond.

It took her long hours submerged in brick-heavy she kept locked in the most private drawers of her lab to realize that. She flipped through their tiny print, read until her eyes were sore and stinging. She diligently sopped it all up, burning the midnight oil to figure out as much as possible about the object of her fascination.

'Anatomy of Behavioral Dysfunctions', 'Clinical Overviews on Dissocial Personality Disorder', 'War and the Mind', She studied them all, countless papers that exposed the intricacies of his psyche, agonizing second to agonizing second. Little by little his present self vanished to reveal a child. He peeked at her thought a maze, hidden in solitude, lost to the care of all creation. His image haunted her, surfacing in dreams. They were actually more like nightmares, heart wrenching tragedies where she desperately tried to catch up with him, but God… she couldn't. He scurried, moving faster than light beyond her grasp. He was so elusive she couldn't ever see into his eyes. She woke up whimpering and confused at times. Those periods of intense research saw her sleeping with her cheek stuck to the pages, wincing for fear of losing him forever.

She stoically delved into the darker pits of every kind of child abuse, physical, emotional and verbal. It plunged her into a dangerous freefall that nearly broke her in half. She almost quit altogether, but she found herself running back inside her office and compulsively putting herself through more. She unearthed every clinical case she could with sound determination. Through that phase she made a point of avoiding him, knowing she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. What she'd read on was highly disturbing and deeply heart rending. Plus she had guilt and suspicion written all over her face. She was worried he might pick up on it and spoil her plans.

After the much necessary researching period was over, her brazenness came back full force.

Yes, he was broken but he wasn't broken down and that fascinated her. He was a somber creature, and he was well beyond salvation, but she wouldn't have wanted him otherwise. She was sure he himself didn't know the depths of his own darkness but it was probably best that he remained oblivious. No better defense mechanism exists than not dwelling in the past. Surviving sane implies not counting the scars, remaining thoroughly withdrawn and being so intelligent, he chose to live by that well regimented credo.

No, she didn't want him changing. What she wanted was to jump over his walls and join him. She knew people would think her a lunatic, a fool to play with fire, but her nature had always been different than that of the rest and she honestly couldn't care less.

Contrary to popular belief, both in the science and business community, she'd never truly been a good girl. They knew she was spoiled, that she'd committed indiscretions as a teenager, but they still wanted her to set an example. They'd been willing to forgive her mistakes from long ago, to bury the scandal of a high-school drop-out.

People had nodded in approval at the way she'd reformed and civilized her ex, molding a bandit into a jet-setter. Little did they know she had been happier when he was still only a criminal. But somehow she'd given society what it wanted, turned Yamcha into a project and lost him in the process. Perhaps she'd done it so they left her alone. With age she'd come to understand that life wasn't about giving in to passion and abandon but surviving in the steel jungle of West City.

She'd have to have this little sexual escapade without bringing in third parties. If it got leaked not her skillful spokesperson, not any number of official communiqués would be able to fix the harm. The rabid dogs surrounding her had no idea how lonely her pedestal could be. No one has the guts to approach a mordant vixen with enough money to buy a small country. It was that kind of loneliness what came to mind when she saw Vegeta, carrying his private little world on his back. It was inherited loneliness, a thing bestowed to children who didn't have a choice.

That day she broke into the room she'd given when he had arrived. She was intent on doing some perfectly harmless reconnaissance, certain she could crack a quark as well as she could crack the fortress of the Saiyan no Ouji. She needed ammo to further her knowledge of her subject and prove her hypothesis. Her eyes roamed restlessly, searching for something that proved he still had a soul, that he wasn't dead yet. It was the necessary step in her scientific method, and Lord knew she was quite methodical.

A clean, orderly man. Not a speck of dust around even though he wouldn't allow servo-bots in. He certainly was a catch, if you could get past the menacing glower, that is. Her stomach fluttered at the remarkable idea of him dusting off his meager belongings in his free time. He had plenty of that when he wasn't training. Being an elite soldier in the ranks of hell surely meant minding every detail. It was probably the kind of behavior that could keep anyone alive. Unfortunately, a wreck would have provided her with more information. She hastily rummaged through the closet, hair falling against her face in disarray as she browsed through his clothes. She was aghast at the martial orderliness, but not too surprised at the lack of any ostentation beyond the things she'd given him. He was obviously not the kind of person to place much importance on material possessions, placing value instead on pride, strength and honor. A mere flaunt of the bottomless black credit card she'd handed him could have made any clerk cream his pants but he'd yet to use it.

Great. This could only mean he was more tightly wound than she'd initially theorized. He'd be completely uncomfortable coming out of his shell. How could someone like that surrender to the prose of love-making? It was a challenge, but far from putting her off, in only fueled her spirit. She thrived on the possibility of failure and the idea of his hot searing body enveloping her like a blanket.

She was crouched against the open door of the closet, burying her nose in one of his t-shirts. God that was good, like an incredibly fresh mountain breeze. He came to earth with nothing but his pride and rugged good looks, carrying his vulnerability like a cloak and luring her with it. Something about him reminded her of a wounded lion, too dangerous for anyone to approach and too proud to take anyone's help anyway. He'd rather sit in a dark corner and lick his wounds alone. Death was preferable to him than appearing weak in the least. She knew how much he disliked the idea of needing her, of admitting he depended on her to live decently on earth. She played along, courting his ego just because she couldn't bear the thought of him leaving, of abandoning her with so many questions unanswered, but enough was enough.

She opened a mahogany dresser and a gleam within his armor caught her eye immediately. She unfolded it and found a single most perplexing object, a small medallion, hung on a thick shiny chain. It looked ancient but glimmered like a prism, two colorful star-like designs overlapping over an encrusted diamond the color of fire. The purity was such she knew it had to be a royal jewel, a remnant of the house of Vegitasei. Nothing could have effectively beaten down the rush of excitement that suddenly swamped her. He obviously carried it inside his armor everywhere he went, holding on to his identity with deadly fierceness. He was the monarch that could never be, the ghost of a boy that fell under the reign of a tyrant and lost it all. Did that maniac ever let anyone close to him? Did Vegeta actually ever manage to be with a woman despite Frieza? Worse, despite himself?

She pondered how much silence a sentient being was able to survive, how much isolation anyone could take. He'd rather stay here than go outside whenever her friends came by. He wouldn't let himself be seduced by small conversation or barbeques. What did he do besides train, eat and sleep, in that order? Did he sit on his bed replaying past battles, old failures and victories from a life spent in servitude? She bet he wrestled with his demons, threading fingers through that black mane of hair while their carefree chatter seeped beneath the door.

She let her gaze wander to the singlewide bed that didn't appear to have been used the night before. There was a chair next to the window, padded with a couple of silk cushions her mother had brought from the Far East. It seemed he'd rather sleep sitting down, recreating the feel of a space pod. How did he stand the suffocating constrains of that hollow metal ball and live to want more? He'd kept himself alive on nothing but hope and anger and the overwhelming need for a revenge that never truly came. He'd been somebody's possession all his life, destitute and lost. A string of remorse reverberated within her but she promptly plucked it out. She was sure she'd make a more gracious owner. She'd wake up the man the lizard buried under his tyranny.

She hoped she was his first woman, loving the idea of being carved in his skin forever. After all, everybody remembers their first time. Sometimes she even dreamed she'd manage to keep him around for more than a few months. That's what she'd explained her parents with unswerving determination the day she'd brought him home. She'd employed the same unwavering tone she'd used 15 years earlier when a stray pup had followed her home. She was glad her parents had a thing for hard luck cases and abandoned pets. God knew she'd gone against them anyway.

She'd do whatever it took so he climbed down from that icy summit and laid buried in her arms. He was going to like the feeling of silk against his hot heavy flesh. With her he'd learn of proper caresses, of ecstasy in something other than bloodshed and villainy. _Why not Vegeta? One single night, just you and me. Nobody has to know how you let go beneath my touch. I won't tell how much you liked it, how much you enjoyed every little second of it. I won't tell that we made love._

The door opened and she hastily sprung to a standing position, making sure to push the open drawer with her hip. Like she'd beckoned him with her thoughts he trudged in, sweaty and badly bruised from another torture session. He cradled his bandaged forearm, scarlet stains tainting the fabric to an angry red. He was so worn out and beaten his face denoted it. He looked moodier than usual, once again angry over his failure at becoming a Super Saiyan. The pain and exhaustion he carried was such it struck her hard right in the chest.

He didn't acknowledge her, merely gritting his teeth as he walked past her to drop himself on the bed, bracing his back against the wall tiredly. Oh, this scenario seemed familiar. It reminded her of her previous night dream. She remained rooted, looking at him like a dumbstruck child. He was the man of her dreams, her darkest, most sinful dreams and he was more than completely unaware. Talk about self-absorbed. He began to un-bandage his arm, breath ragged and muscles clenching as dark blood spilled profusely and dripped down from his fingertips. She nearly gasped, worried at the extent of his wounds and eager to tend to him but he'd only push her away, wouldn't he?

"What are you doing here?"

Not a single look, only his acrid tone to greet her and yet how oddly captivating it was. It drew her in with a power short of mesmerizing.

"I brought you a snack." Her mouth moved by rote. She'd come in carrying a platter as a perfect excuse to be there. The tasteful array of simple delights lay idle on the dresser to the side. He still wasn't looking at her, his attention narrowly focused on the gruesome spectacle that was his arm. She bravely knelt down before him, drawn to the long gash running down his elbow to his wrist. Had he put his fist through the jagged innards of another training bot? She lifted a bird-boned hand to touch him but he swatted it away without granting her a look. He treated her like a bothersome gnat. That rejection stung in ways she wasn't prepared to scrutinize. She could fix him, couldn't he see that?

His breath remained laborious and his features tense. The pain etched in his face deepened as he methodically pressed fingers to the wound to staunch the blood loss. He then grabbed and pulled mercilessly until his bone cracked audibly into position.

The prince might be a ruthless ass. He might like portraying himself as invincible but that moment she understood he bled like any other man. He was alien but his blood ran as red as her own. Would his body feel with the same intensity as hers when they reached the cusp? She had to know how long he could go before losing control. _Could_ she make him lose control?

"Vegeta, you're hurt. Please, let me take a look at you." She softly wheedled, like a handler lulling a wounded beast. She loved the vivid color of his blood. Its abundance spoke of pain, but it also spoke of life. So much suffering could only mean an equal ability for pleasure. She was going to show him there was another side to life than just never-ending hurt.

He reclined against the wall, folding his aching arm up against his chest. He then regarded her with uneasiness, the ice of his gaze replaced by bewilderment. She knew that look. He wasn't comfortable with her proximity. My God, this man needed major coaxing. Tricking him into bed was a task of monumental proportions, far above the capability of a simple mind.

"You're acting like you've never seen a woman before, like you've never been this close to one." Her tone masked a question she dare not ask. She held her breath in expectation, her pulse frantic. _Come on, baby, throw me a bone here. It's in your best interest._

He seemed a bit startled that she'd bring such a thing up. It was the first time they'd been this close and her deliberate invasion of his space was throwing him off his orbit. He frowned in suspicion, one eye slightly wider then the other.

"Don't be stupid you bitch."

He then stared elsewhere, something quirking in his lip. He was gorgeous but far too brutal. Something unnamable flickered in the midnight pools of his eyes, something that looked like mortification.

Any other man would already be hitting on her, tempted by the curve of her lips and the way she was suggestively kneeling over his lap but he gave the word rigid a whole new definition. Such caustic personality was could have only been forged in the funkiest hole of the universe.

"I'm not a slave, wench, or bitch. Do you even know what my name is?" There was a sour edge of displeasure to her voice but her eyes were still sparkling with concern. They were fraught with a deeper kind of desire, one that exceeded lust.

He let his eyes drift over to hers slowly, his nose still angled to the side. An endless moment lay heavily between them before he spoke. "Your name is perfectly irrelevant to me."

She cautiously lifted her eyes, a gleam of blue as dark as the raging oceans. A finger traced an invisible path on the blanket alongside his thigh, almost touching him but not daring. "My name's Bulma Briefs, and I'm perfectly harmless. I want to heal your wounds, if you'd only let me. I know I can make it better."

"I don't want you to." He curtly responded. "And it's got nothing with you being a female. I know more than enough about that. I just don't want anyone interfering in my life." He was now facing her directly. "So do me a favor, human. Fuck off."

Fuck off? Not without asking a few more questions. There was something that troubled her and she quickly voiced her mind. "What do you mean you know more than enough?" She couldn't avoid the edge of bitterness in her voice. Had he just said he knew _more than enough_ about women? And here she was thinking she'd be his first. Of course the man wasn't a eunuch. No one that looked that way could be.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He deepened his brows, pissing her off further with his unwillingness to respond. _Oh, kami. You have no idea what you got yourself into the minute you said yes to living here, mister._

"You said you knew more than enough about women?" She repeated, raising a delicate eyebrow saucily. She was suddenly seething with ire. "What exactly is it you know?"

His eyes widened in disbelief at her brazen attitude. He looked charming when the tops of his cheeks reddened. There was a boyish air about him whenever he was caught off guard, the usually stern brackets around his full lips softened and he looked infinitely human. He snarled and she immediately tensed, like a rabbit scenting true, life-threatening danger. She hoped he wouldn't blast her off for her impertinence.

"What I know is that I'd rather train."

Well, he was a skillful dodger of insidious questions, alright. But the hidden implications were oddly soothing. It seemed prior experience had left him unimpressed.

"Really? That bad?" She commented, her expression carefully demure.

He raised his imperious nose, directing his gaze elsewhere. "Eating, training, acquiring power. That's a much more productive use of any man's time."

"Wow, alien females must be rather ugly bitches."

Vegeta glared at her in annoyance, two arrogant pupils digging into her soul.

"You're nothing but a foolish human being. You'd have to live a thousand years to witness a fraction of what I had at the age of fifteen. The galaxy thrives with countless species which aren't all that displeasing to the eye. Get back to me once you've walked the bridges of Ixia or the streets of Cynara."

Bulma knew the ugly face of jealousy right there and then and she didn't like it one bit. A million scenarios flitted through her imaginative mind, some of them lewd enough to send her jaw clenching. She felt like jumping him right that minute and making him forget every single whore he'd fucked.

"Talk to me once you've had a human girl, not that you ever will. Talk to me when you've known softness of the body and the mind and passion so genuine it overflows the spirit." They engaged in a staring contest, she fierce and rebellious, him ticked off but unable to muster a response. He then pushed himself off the bed, issuing a deep reverberating growl and striding away to the bathroom.

She found her feet and watched him rinse the blood off his arm, aware she'd overstayed her welcome. Blood swirled off his arm and into the white porcelain of the sink. He then splashed cool water on his face, diamond beads trailing haphazardly over it until they reached his chin and spilled over to his chest. Water glittered off his long ebony hairs, weighing a lank so it stuck to his forehead waywardly. She took it all in without making a move to leave, still intent on answering one last question that remained unvoiced. Did he also like what he saw when he looked at her?

He turned to regard her from the corner of an eye, then sauntered towards the doorframe and propped an arm up against it. The staring game was getting old, and it was seriously fraying at her nerves. "Bitch." Was all he whispered, but it wasn't dished with his usual viciousness. It was more like a warning, like he knew what she was up to. She felt intimately touched by it; the word was more like an indecent caress than an insult.

He waited patiently, pressuring her off his territory but she remained unmoving. Her scarlet lips puckered up slightly as she looked at him. There was a promise of retribution in her eyes as they narrowed to perfect daggers meant to slice him apart.

He remained poised like the king of the food chain, his sheer presence enough to make anyone run away with their tail between their legs. But Bulma of Chikyuu didn't ever retreat. She never backed down in the face of a threat.

It was only a matter of time before one of them tired, before one of them slipped and betrayed him or herself in the soundless game they'd begun. _A clue, grant me a clue that you also want me._

And then, to her infinite elation, his will backfired on him.

In a fraction of a second, so small she could have missed it, his gaze lowered to her cleavage, then quickly slid over her legs feverishly. He returned to her face but it was already too late to rectify his actions.

_I noticed it Vegeta. I noticed you slip._

A satisfied smirk tugged at her lips and she looked away, sashaying towards the door to exit his dominion. His eyes followed her. She could feel their unwavering power as she shut the door behind her and made it to the relative safety of the corridor.

He did want her, even if he couldn't acknowledge it. That notion made her forget all her other concerns and abandon the worry that he'd be too emotionally stifled to ever let go. The idea of love making was as foreign to him as common courtesy but that didn't undermine her excitement.

The glow of the lights at the base of the corridor lit her steps and she smiled, thinking them the prettiest things ever. Requited lust was one of the best feelings ever, only comparable to the pleasure of victory.

He wouldn't have to lift a finger. He could leave it all to her, the fine art of sneaky infiltration. He may know about filthy, unengaged sex, but he didn't know anything more sublime than that. He had much to discover, too many years of pent-up tension left to discard.

What risk could there be in having a little bit of fun? The way she saw it, they both won. It's not as if he was marriage material, but then she was well aware of that. She didn't expect a golden ring on her finger. She had a right to have fun with perfectly wrong, dangerous men if she wanted to and this particular one was there, ripe for the taking.

She halted her step and leaned against the wall, looking at an indefinite point in the carpet. She smiled under half-lidded eyes and twirled a blue ringlet in her finger. Could his powerful hands caress skin as well as they destroyed entire planets? She should find out tomorrow.


	2. Set Up The Stage

**Disclaimer: **DBZ is the brain-child of Akira Toriyama. I am borrowing Vegeta mainly because he is too hot.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

By Caprice

Chapter 2: Set up the Stage

The soft purple chenille of the couch hugged Bulma's figure as she lay strewn over it, a slim dainty figure relaxing in the midst of a snug Monday morning. There was nothing inherently odd about the sight. She hadn't been working at the lab or going to her downtown office for several days now and she surely didn't miss the grueling hours spent either hammering away on her keyboard or exchanging mindless pleasantries with the company's pack of wolfish stakeholders. In truth, and this is something she'd never openly admit to either one of her parents, she sometimes wished she weren't an only child. If only the task of running Capsule Corp. didn't have to fall squarely in the immeasurably younger shoulders of Dr. Trunks Briefs' one heiress…

No point in worrying about that sort of thing today though. She had made sure to leave all her business matters in order before taking time off to round up a certain little monkey. Err, she should be careful not to call him that, not even in secret. It would equal a death sentence were it to escape her rather unreliable tongue.

She crossed her ankles and glanced out the wide crystal panes of the balcony rimming the spacious living room, letting the slow swaying of the palm trees sooth her jagged thoughts. Yesterday had given her the final boost to put her plan into action. The look in his face, the silent acknowledgement of what she believed to be inevitable dancing awkwardly across his handsome features. Thus she had risen today to the dawn of a new age, the era where Bulma pushes the Saiyan no Ouji to the limits, both in temper and in well, other things too. Yes, a new world where Bulma and Vegeta actually…

She blushed, in spite of her renowned strength of character, a muscle twitching around her lips minutely. Her expression and posture still betrayed nothing of the longing and anxiety slowly swelling inside. It had been ages since she'd last felt anything as remotely thrilling as this, and it tickled in and around her innermost parts. The feeling pushed further down to scrunch her between her thighs in a deadly grip. She could only hope to emerge unscathed after today, to survive the crashing thunderstorm sure to come.

Well she'd just have to. It was too late to turn back anyway. She depleted the refrigerator first thing in the morning, grabbing whatever cans, bags, bottles, and edible bits and pieces she could find. She then, with much effort, tossed the bulk raided into huge boxes and tottered downstairs to feed it all to a rather eager dinosaur pet. Buni Buni had surely enjoyed the heaping mound of treats, but the fridge now cried its vacancy. It remained nothing but a barren cold cavity holding little more than a single bag of celery and a can of half used dog food.

She allowed a full-fledged grin to grace her features. Then came step two of her elaborate ploy. She had snuck into Pappa's office and stolen the white platinum key to override the settings in the Gravity Room. When had it gone from being Capsule 3 to turning into the Prince's lair? She could barely recall. It had forcibly been turned into his world, that cocoon of self-flagellation and torture that served as his private fortress against the world. But not today. She had snaked in and rendered it out of order; ready to claim that it was in desperate need of … repairs. How ironic, she thought, that it was the owner who needed that the most and not his trusty machine. Anyhow, no manner of cursing, bitching or moaning was making that console crank a reading above 1G.

Her pearly grin grew wider.

Next on the list was making sure her poor parents weren't the ones to pay the bill. It just wasn't fair to drag them down to hell with her, put them in harms way. She really didn't want them facing the unnerving wrath of a pissed off, unstable Saiyan. Hence, she told them they should take a break today; go out for a nice time in the poppy carpeted meadows of the northern hills outside the capital. Kami bless their gentle hearts. They seldom contradicted her, eager to please her rather than butt heads with the half-mad girl she could become when denied any sort of particular whim. She supposed in the end being an only child did have its great props. She left their questions unanswered, muttering something about having a special project to work on. Thank god her mother hadn't quipped with an insightful little remark related to Vegeta. Still, she knew mamma was far quicker than anyone gave her credit for and in time she'd have to face her and her gust of questions.

Food, GR and parents out of the way, she had thrown her suddenly heavy body on the welcoming cushions of the lounge in the second floor. As she laid down, somewhere in the deep confines of the saner parts of her brain, a little voice crept up, berating her for luring the devil out of the shadows, for taunting him so daringly. Was this her twisted way of "seducing" a man? Of getting into his pants? Of unearthing some manner of a soul?

Yes. The plan could only be as warped and perverse as the recipient, the perpetrator as cold and calculating as the victim. And with that thought well saddled in her mind, she reached for her nail file and begun grooming their pink lacquered surface absently. Getting Vegeta in bed was almost akin to a challenging game of chess, no strategy, no gain.

The living room hung in a state of cryptic quietude, the kind that precedes an electrical storm of epic proportions. The only noise in the room, her voice humming a tune, some sort of melody about love and adventure her mother taught her when she was a child.¹

And then… a rush of wind as swift and sudden as the twinge in her stomach. She couldn't actually see him, didn't get a chance, but she could feel his energy sizzling through her body. It was the dark imprint of his quick incursion as he moved through the balcony doors and into the kitchen with preternatural ease. It was his usual routine, done with military precision every single morning. A Saiyan couldn't train on an empty stomach, a fact that forced him to pay a visit to the big white tiled room in the house and often leave it looking like a complete disaster zone.

And she braced herself… for the monstrous whirlwind of black fury sure to follow. In fact she eagerly awaited it, already savoring the fight and tensing her muscles in deep anticipation.

"…. what. Damn…"

Distant hissing and cursing. The sound of the refrigerator door slammed with so much strength it jolted her a good two inches off the sofa. Eating utensils wiped to the floor in one single swooping motion. Cupboards almost blown off their hinges, glasses smashed to smithereens, all in a very loud demonstration of poor anger management.

Then silence. A long stretched moment that took at least thirty seconds, during which she never once stopped the gentle motion of her fingers as she shaped her nails into perfect little arches.

She barely restrained a smirk when she heard the refrigerator door open again and caught the distinct sound of a spoon screeching against the hollowness of a can; the one can left in the entirety of the kitchen. When she heard him throw it against the linoleum flooring, the empty can rolling noisily over its expanse, it became impossible to hold it back anymore and she let it bloom, the devilish smile of an early triumph.

He emerged from the kitchen, flustered and disheveled, his rebellious mane looking impossibly wilder than usual. He darted his eyes to where she laid, lounging like a big lazy cat, minding her own business…. and he waited for her complete and utter acknowledgment. She stopped her humming, slowly lifting two glacier eyes to meet his heated gaze.

"Did you enjoy the dog food? You should have enlightened me on your habits. I can still arrange you a place to sleep in the garden next to my Jack Russell and my Basset Hound." Her lips twitched maliciously, a mimic of his own usual trademark evil stare.

"Is that because you'd rather get rid of those useless, yipping hairballs? I've always thought they look delicious."

She suppressed a shudder at the very real threat in his voice.

"Dog food and live, kicking raw meat… I should have called in the vet, not the doctor when you blasted yourself in the GR."

He stepped closer, bearing an expression that could have made any human male pee in his pants.

"Bitch. What did you do with all the food?"

Her lips quirked and her brow furrowed. "Gone. I forgot to go shopping. Could you pass me the remote?" Her tone couldn't have been more detached if she'd tried any harder and she patted herself mentally after the puzzled look he gave her.

"Onna, you're failing to deliver the promise you once made your master." His voice dropped down to an almost unnatural depth. "You said it yourself, I have no problems sliding into your private little zoo and systematically butchering every worthless creature you're so keen on breeding".

A very gruesome image flitted across her suddenly tremulous mind but the muscles in her face remained tense with unwavering resolve. "You wouldn't, unless you want to destroy Pappa's very vulnerable, old heart and screw yourself in the process." He regarded her with sheer contempt only broken by a sudden, inescapable look of realization. "If you do, you can kiss any sort of maintenance for your private hell-hole goodbye, unless you actually happen to be adept in quantum mechanics and virtual gravitons".

If there was something she knew perfectly well about the Saiyan Prince's character is he was not that easy to bring down, a thought that succeeded at keeping her on edge and not letting her underestimate him.

"I have you, don't I onna. Why should I worry?" And there it was, the perfect replica uttered in a low self-conceited purr that should be outlawed for being so obscenely tantalizing.

She gripped the nail file in an effort to remain unmoving, crossing her arms in the process. She could only prey the sudden bolt of electricity that shot through her stomach wasn't evident to his keen Saiyan senses.

"Vegeta, could you pass me the remote?"

"Don't I?" He repeated, his smooth bronze face breaking into a lopsided grin.

She smiled a little, ruby lips curling in response. "If you did, I'd be on my knees, bent over…" She repositioned herself on the couch, unhooking her ankles and letting a long porcelain leg hang over the edge of the couch. "…under the console right this minute wouldn't I?"

She could have sworn she saw a look of utter bewilderment take over his grin but it was quickly replaced by one of unmistaken, nasty darkness.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"The GR's down. I think something's busted in the programming. I'll eventually get to figuring it out." She resorted to grazing the file over a pink nail, blowing over it delicately.

He cocked his head to the side eyes growing into big black pools of psychotic rage. "You'd better be kidding me you trashy little whore". He barely hissed the words through his teeth.

"No. I am not. Go try it out yourself. You can either take a break or train under the challenging pull of 1G. Whatever suits you best…Ouji-sama." She regarded him under thick curly eyelashes, a look that was disquieting under its simulated innocence.

He regained his steady resolve and gave her his most commanding look. "I already told you, girl. There's you. Regardless of whatever you say I can force you down, I can make you fall to your knees and bend over. Whether you want it or not is completely irrelevant. By the time I am done with you, you will be pleading for more and thanking me for sparing your insignificant little life."

… And a coil snapped between her thighs hitting her mercilessly. For a moment, she lost track of whatever it was they were taking about, the speech so heavily packed with innuendo it was hard to keep her mind focused.

"Pass me the remote, how many times am I going to have to ask you?"

"Fuck you onna."

Wow, quite a mind reader. She could only hope he lived to that promise. He then looked her straight in the eyes, a half-manic crooked smile surfacing as he pointed a Ki laced finger in the remote's direction and fried it to a molten lump.

Bulma gasped in horror at the sudden display of blatant intimidation and regarded the smoldering stump that had once been a state of the art universal proton conversion remote. She raised an eyebrow and met his eyes defiantly, feeling the stark beauty of his sinister face threaten to crumble her resolve. She gripped the back of the couch and leaned forward.

"You're not precisely making points… Ouji-sama. I am not yours to do as you please, nor am I your fucking little slave to slap and toss around. "

His lips quivered with what could only be ripples of maddened fury barely kept at bay. There was something in his eyes, something other than plain anger, something she couldn't quite put her finger to. It seemed a little like indignity in the face of betrayal. The rock hard muscles of his body bulged in tension under the skintight blue training suit he was wearing. And just like that, he darted forward in her direction to stand a hair's breath from his leg touching her dangling leg. It was so brisk a movement she couldn't help but issue a small whimper as she sprang to an upright sitting position in a posture of defiance, tilting her face upward to meet his thick-lashed murderous eyes.

"Stop fucking with me girl. You don't want to go there. I swear not even that bumbling moron of Kakarrot will be able to save you if I decide to snap your neck right this second. I suggest you peel yourself from that piece of furniture. Now!"

Bulma threw the nail file with violence and knelt on the couch all in one swift motion. It was now or never, the moment to stand her ground in the face of death. The point of absolute no return.

"If you decide to snap my neck right this second, I swear you're done in for Vegeta and you know that very well. I swear you lose that GR forever, so now _you_ tell me, who the hell's the master, and who the slave, _you_ tell me who's got the upper hand."

Vegeta looked at her, both paralyzed and startled and she felt the stinging fangs of guilt wrench her soul and shake it around like a beast feasting on its prey. But she had to trust her instinct, trust that she had cracked the riddle. Someone this proud would never truly surrender to anyone he considered weak and powerless. He would only orgasm with all the power of thunder if he lay with someone that bested him in battle, someone worthy of both his mind and body. Kami knew she needed to ascertain that position for once and for all, to make him understand the simple truth of who she really was and realize there was nowhere to go but down, down together, burning in a downward spiral, clinging to the sole hope they survived the crash. He needed to know this was it, his time had come, _their _time.

_This moment of epiphany, deep seated epiphany, is your life, spreading in your subconscious like night blooming jasmine that blossoms in the dark… _

Still, despite her total certainty, that look… that look in his eye, that expression of deep hurt pride… it lanced through her heart with the precision of a javelin. He regarded her with the last shreds of his dignity, like a king without a castle, like a prince without a throne and she… she died in his eyes, that very second, feeling a part of her soul shift and rearrange forever.

His chest heaved in deep profound breathing and he stretched his hand to hold the hair at the back of her head in a tight grip. He lingered on her face the same way he had once stared into Gohan's, when he stumbled upon him during his raid in Namek-sei. He held her and studied her with the same kind of bitter-sweet demeanor, drowning in her rarity and defiance, hating and needing her with tangible desperation.

And that touch, that blazing touch of his hand sent violent shivers down her rigid body as she trailed eyes down his powerful chest. Her lips parted inadvertently as she tried to lower her gaze down, down… to the area between his thighs, unconsciously venturing to sneak a peek and find out if he was… he was also being raped senseless with the same heat that was shooting through her. But just before she managed to focus her eyes, he jerked her upwards by her hair, painfully hoisting her to her feet.

"Don't touch me Vegeta".

How pristine and clear in its simplicity. To use reverse psychology with a being that was pretty much twisted and reversed himself. How infallible a tactic to deny him the one thing she truly wanted him to do, dare him into taking it by force. Everything was a battle to him, the only language he could truly understand, and she was more than ready to speak that dialect with every inch of her body.

They had never been this close, they had never touched and despite the insurmountable surge of boiling feelings spearing through both of them, they remained stiff as a boards, Bulma's hands balled into fists as she looked into the dark tint of his irises.

"Vegeta… let me go" Her request was little more than a whisper, as her eyes wandered down to his lips unconsciously.

He pulled her hair tighter, bringing her a breath closer.

"Woman, do you know what you're playing with? If I say you're my slave, if I say you're to do something… anything, you do it. If I want to grab, you, hold you, shake you like a doll I will."

His hold was so tight she couldn't help but wince in pain, eyes narrowing to slits and still she managed to rasp her words out, enunciating each one with sufficient clarity. "Keep telling yourself that, Ouji-sama. If you want the GR ready I strongly recommend you let me go and I just _might_ consider it."

He frowned deeply, teeth clamped tightly.

"The only way you'll get me to do something, _anything _right now is if you grabbed me and forced me, if you pushed me down violently. Is that what you want? Do you want to go the same way you've always gone? Do you want me on it unwillingly, half-heartedly?" She breathed her words and saw his face reshape under them. And once again, it was as if the topic in question was unclear… as Bulma tested the waters. All of this was meant to shake him into reality, to get him to know her as she truly was, a woman with spirit and not just a subservient little subordinate he could use at his pleasure. It was meant to pull him out from his shell… to tease the male, the blood and flesh, breathing living, big animal male in him… and she wanted him, but not like this… she wanted every part of him, the part that went even beyond lust, but that was something to come later.

He drowned in her eyes, silence thickening between them, and in that quick moment, that very second, she knew the overwhelming truth. _He was alive_. He wasn't another Frieza, another crook past the point of salvation. The unspoken answer to her question hung between them… his tacit yet resounding "no", no… no. No to using her the same way he'd used others, no to bringing her down and turning her into another _thing_ to savage, to beat and slap around.

No… not… not her.

And he shook, regarding her in utter confusion, like a man looking into a mirror for the first time in 20 years. He let her go, stepping back, too angry and stricken to form a coherent thought, much less a proper reply.

She touched her hand to the back of her head, where he'd held her so forcefully. She regarded his darkened expression with elaborate and methodical coolness as she sunk into the couch again, grabbing for the nail polish in the coffee table.

In the space of a few minutes she had gone from cheerful anticipation, to guilt, to lust, and finally, a sense of deep, deep pain. Pain for who he was, a perfectly helpless and very much alive being, helpless while harboring such earth shattering power. And she thought she'd carry that image in her mind for all eternity, that visage of pure, crystalline emptiness. His complete realization that there was no way, no hope in hell he'd ever be able to find any sort of solace from the demons assaulting him. No one would ever be _his_ willingly, never his ally, never on his side. Not even her, regardless of her initial invitation so many months ago, or the help she'd once cheerfully offered. No, she was now taking it back, all she had once given him.

He opened his mouth and closed it in the same breath, unable to muster a single word and she tore her eyes from his face going back to tending to her nails. That blinding rage… that poisonous monster cloistered deep within his chest howled, a horrid deafening noise.

He left, as quickly and unnoticed as he had arrived, and Bulma threw the polish aside the minute he did. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest feeling a cold sweat break over her entire body, sending shivers down her spine.

"Trust me in this…. please." She didn't know who she was speaking to, didn't quite understand what she was feeling, but it was strong, heavy like hunks of steel burdening her soul, deep enough to make her exhale tiredly.. "I… I can make it better, I can make you whole… I… " And she collapsed back on the couch, squirming and shuddering in lust and grief.

--

Vegeta's POV

I feel like I could kill someone. Not someone… everyone in this revolving ball of dirt called Chikyuu. In fact, I'm seconds away of letting go of any stupid restraints and reverting to my old self. I crave extinguishing the cries of those at my mercy, hearing their bones snap like twigs under the pressure of my fingers. It's a thick, dense release only killing can bring, coupled by the crisp clarity it leaves behind. Gods, I need that abandon; that rush that assures me I am in fact alive.

I never had the time to remain in one single place, wasting precious time in stillness, to put up with lesser beings that deserve little more than a quick blast. I lived to suckle at the immeasurable fountain of evil, felt it grow inside me cloaking me in its rich obscene essence, and I liked it. I prefer the language of blood, of death and depravity… it is infinitely right in its simplicity, it is crass in its philosophy, just the way it should be. There lays victory and might, the sort of thing that truly matters. I didn't have to devout my self to mere training; my body and spirit were forged in the heart of war itself, in the lowest pits of hell.

I was familiar with the blaring sirens of battle, as I commanded legions, used to the rasping cries of murdered children and women.

I'd sooner go back to that than hearing one single more ear-puncturing word from that low-class onna. I wonder if she's got some sick, masochistic death wish. All this time she's played it safe, loud as always but careful not to interfere. She's been diligent in her self-imposed task of being my servant, always there, tending to my every need with the consistency of a Gamedian clock, yet today… what the fuck is the matter with her today? Did she fall off her bed and hit her head in the process?

I doubt it. She might have turned out to be a twisted little wench purposefully driving me to the edge of my temper. I truly don't think it's something as plain as stupidity. The woman and her ditzy parents do seem to have assembled a good amount of wealth based on their brain power alone.

That or she's toying with me, the insolent little fool. Did she suddenly forget who I am?

I live for the godly sense of power that comes with deciding if someone should live or die. I still indulge in the clear-cut images of past battles; I can hear the deafening cries, see the gaping faces of billions of enemies slain in the midst of combat, their expression contorted into sheer terror. If only it hadn't been in the name of that blasted mother of all fuckers it would have been perfect… if only I had been working in my benefit and not in his. Well the bastard is now dead, and that too would have been perfect if only it had been wrought by my very own hand. Hell no, the gods had to conspire against me once more, in their infinite mockery they had to take a low-born imbecile like Kakarrot to do the feat. Ah, but I shall meet Frieza in hell and kill him again in the afterlife, as many times as needed, until this poison is fully squeezed out of my system.

Kakarrot… my most pressing concern and the fucking thorn in my flesh. He comes first. I shall slay him in the field of bitter-sweet revenge, for taking away my rights, my identity. Gods I hate him so thoroughly, so deeply I can barely keep it in. He comes before anyone else, then comes her… that unsettling female. At least that's the way I had it planned, now, after today, she's making me reconsider my priorities

I used to laugh at how gullible she was, providing me with the tools to become stronger as if my ultimate goal is actually saving her and her sorry little friends from death at the hands of the tin cans. Fighting those worthless androids may be the necessary step to teaching everyone who the hell's on top, but that isn't what matters most. What's crucial is fulfilling the purpose of my existence, claiming my title for once and for all as the rightful Super Saiya-jin, not just another one, the strongest one! Entitled to the universe itself… I shall ascend; I have to… gods…I just need to.

Dammit. I shouldn't even be here hovering in the shadows delving on this. If there's any chance of achieving my goal soon enough I need to get back to training! Which brings me back to her… it's always her lately, the wrongful owner of the key to my success. Intolerable little Chikyuu woman. Just what the hell is the matter with her? Do human females suffer from intense periods of lunacy? She isn't even in the time of bleeding; I would have smelled it.

Does she realize she's failing at the only two things I deemed her useful for? Making the fucking trinket work and providing me with enough food to train effectively? Thanks to her all I've had to eat today is half a can of that thing left over in the cold white box they call "refrigerator". I admit it was quite tasty, but once again, fucking bitch, I will make her pay for making me eat d…dog food.

So what's with the sudden change in her disposition? With my god-damned luck she probably finally put the pieces together and realized my ultimate goal is killing that moron Kakarrot and eventually rising as the rightful conqueror of the galaxy. She probably realized how incredibly stupid she was by actually helping me attain the goal that would result in her perpetual slavery. She'd probably make a fine slave too… given enough time to break her. But that's beside the point. I didn't expect her to jolt out of her rather helpful state of careless disregard… damn wench.

I never felt this… helpless. Not even at the hands of Frieza. At least that bastard let me go around un-caged, at least I got to roam and scour the galaxy with a license to kill. I could pretty much do whatever the hell I wanted. But the humiliation of existing at her expense, reliant on her whims is much more than royalty… than any being! … can take. Am I supposed to just sit here, _waiting,_ until Bulma of Chikyuu decides she's done being a complete bitch? What are these human females made of? What kind of creature behaves so incomprehensibly, so irrationally? What the hell does it take to put them in their place?

At times I think I got her figured out, I admit she's got courage and spirit, and it surprised me initially, when she showed up to meet Frieza the day he came to earth. I was more than a bit taken aback when she arrived, doing something that made her either incredibly stupid or unbelievably fearless. Whichever it was, I actually noticed her, to my infinite amazement, but it was short-lived. She started calling after me in that loud voice of hers; emitting tones I've only heard from the screeching monsters on Belares Four. For all things unholy, she nearly split my ears in half. I almost commanded her useless boyfriend to haul her back and lock her up. But then again, I had more important things to tend to.

Gods I… I am tired. There's nothing more to destroy in this now barren strip of land I aimlessly circle over. Dust and rocks rain over me after blasting an entire mountain with a Gallic Gun that would have made Ottousamma proud. Ottousamma… I, I won't fail you, I will get there somehow, soon enough and then I shall restore this pride, the name of our house, the honor of our race…

It is pitch black, and I am surrounded by nothing but sheer devastation, product of the ire burning after our little encounter this morning. Since then I have walked among the wilderness, roamed like a hapless beast.

_Are you going to throw me out you wench? _

Dammit. She has probably come to the sober conclusion that she wants nothing to do with a murderous soldier like me. Stupid little slave, can't understand a killer. She sits on her pedestal and deems me unworthy of her attentions. It appears I now am the epitome of filth to her, too much of a bastard to live under the same roof as her and her parents, to be in the vicinity of her trashy friends. Well, damn her and her friends, and this planet and that moron Kakarrot. And damn the tin cans and damn the whole universe.

Yesterday she came to my room and actually started asking me questions, as if I needed or wanted her to start prying into my life. Why would I want to sink so low as to regard her with an ounce of deference? And it appears she didn't like what she saw. She thinks she's better than me. She thinks she can size me up to form her little conclusions. She believes she's entitled to judge me, measuring my words to find enough of an excuse to expel me from her presence. It seems she did find justification enough to throw me out like a stray pet she's gotten bored of, enough to ease her conscience with a hypocritical sense of right and wrong.

Damn her to hell. I should have just taken off into the wilderness from the very start, living off the product of my hunting, preying on whatever I could find. I have had my share of raw meat and guts back in the day, something I'm sure the female knows nothing of. Somehow I cannot imagine her pearly white teeth perched on flesh that's still warm and throbbing, or sucking blood from her pale _immaculate_ hands.

The only reason I trailed along with her the first time I had the displeasure to set foot on this aggravating planet was to have news on Kakarrot. The second time around I complied to staying with her through her very own persuasion, and of course because of the GR. But all she did, all she offered with what seemed like genuine pleasure back then…it wasn't….it was all lies.

Why the hell is she taking it all back? Does she actually want me to kill her or something… ?

_Is she going to throw me out? _

Well once again, damn her. I would go back and threaten her into submission except I've tried that several times today and it doesn't seem to work. All she did was treat me with utter disdain, with a reproving glean in her eyes… I had never seen her so completely disengaged, so withheld. The Chikyuu-jin ice queen shall go at the top on my list of victims, I shall bring her down from where she's now perched and spit in on her broken body.

Yes, the bitch is probably throwing me into the streets.

She got bored of her Saiyan pet, worse, she's probably struck with the realization of who I am. No, little onna, I am not a soft, innocent weakling like your friends. I am not Kakarrot. I'm a bastard. Did someone break the news? _Did they tell you the truth, the overwhelming truth of my past? It probably upset you, didn't it? You don't want to soil your dainty little hands do you? Well, to hell with you. I don't fucking need you. _

…and how many more pounds, can the ground take as I vent my fury into it. Kakarrot and his half-bred pathetic excuse for a Saiyan are sure to come over if I keep raising my Ki like this. They should… if only to get a good fight going, pin them to the ground and give them all I got. Their every breath gets on my nerves, exhausts me. Gods I hate this place. I hate them all. But I shall right all the wrongs once I become the Legendary, I have to…I have to believe I will. By all the gods I will.

Well, this isn't right, I don't even want to keep blasting the mountains into dust. I don't know why, I don't even care to waste what little energy I have left on doing so.

She _is_ throwing me out. I knew it. I just knew this day would come, and for that I should go back and kill her, go back and show her she was right all along, that I am nothing but a merciless, filthy bastard, a swindling mercenary. I'll prove her right.

Yet I thought… she sometimes seemed like…, when she looked at me, it was as if…

No.

Anyone could have been fooled by her act. But I can right that wrong, I can learn to never slip again. What the hell was I thinking when I said yes, when I trailed along… when I believed her? I will taint her with my dirt, my muck, my ungodliness. I will go over and prove her just how unholy I am. That's what she thinks, that's what she asked for.

I will stand before her and roar into her face, demand an answer.

_Did you think I was good? Did you finally find out from those idiots all the sins I committed, sins according to you? Did you find out all I used to be? Is that why… _

_Is that why? _

_I'm glad you did. You've enabled me to let go, fly back to you and stand in your balcony as I do now, and attest to it. Your doors are open. Do you have a death wish? Are you mocking me…? Do you think I won't dare kill you only because of Kakarrot's existence, like you've got nothing to fear? You don't even think I am worth your bother... _

_You must really hate me. _

_I laugh again at that thought. I don't care if you do…I hate you too. I'm cold blooded, I was getting too soft…all because of you, but your hatred is bringing back what I like the most in me…the part that overtakes me and relieves me completely. This is me, what you asked for...and if you think I will let you laugh at me and humiliate me like this…take it all away just like that…then you're wrong. _

_You think of me no higher than the grime on your shoes, treat me like a toy you can just toss away… Little onna, I can't believe you fooled the Prince of all Saiyans, not even for a second. I can't believe you were so good at acting, at pretending things were different. That you, when you talked to me… when you looked at me… _

_Well, what a complete saint you turned out to be, the perfect picture of purity and innocence. How long did it last? Here you had me thinking you were some sort of faultless creation, an anomaly in the system. You got tired pretty quickly didn't you? Your true colors came out sooner than expected. Let me tell you I thought I was done letting my poisonous beast free to murder, but I will gladly bring it out to kill you, without an inch of regret… for this I wouldn't give a damn if Kakarrot comes over to confront me… I wouldn't mind facing his vengeful wrath just to prove you right._

_I am a killer, onna. _

_This is who I am. _

A/N Comments or questions? Feel free to drop me a line. Tune in for the third installment, where it's life or death, love or war (Or maybe both) for Vegeta and Bulma.

¹_Romantic Ageru yo_


	3. Get Him Where You Want Him

**Disclaimer: **DBZ and Vegeta were created by Akira Toriyama. Isn't he the greatest?

**A/N:** Many thanks to the lovely Raditz Silver for beta-ing this piece. This chapter takes the scope of things all the way into the next dimension.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 3

Step 4 – Get Him Where You Want Him

_Prelude_

The enormous man sat his colossal weight on a comfortable swivel office chair of equally gigantic proportions as he poured himself a steaming cup of Chrysanthemum tea. The delicate flowers had been harvested, crushed and boiled by a swarm of tiny blue men clad in impeccable business suits on the kitchen behind the gates they guarded with utmost zeal and diligence. They were always orderly and vigilant, tending to their jobs as administrative staff of perhaps the highest post possible in the quasi-corporate realm of the afterlife, bound by honor to not only assist their king in the everyday hustle of bureaucratic jumble but to also provide him with something as simple and vital as a much needed cup of tea.

They skittered around like ants, running back and forth across the ample hall where souls from all across the galaxy came to meet their fate together. It was already time for an eagerly awaited lunch break and there were a few tasks to finish before closing the main gate that now separated the seemingly endless serpentine line of white globs from the front desk area where their master flipped and stamped the days away.

A minuscule horned man glided towards the entrance where a huge "Welcome" greeted the poor bastards who had recently suffered their demise and hung a big bold-lettered sign on the gate. He cushioned the impact those three words, "Back in thirty", always made on the tumultuous crowd of souls by issuing a soft-spoken, albeit it telephone-recording-sounding apology of sorts.

"I am so very sorry for the inconvenience but King Enma is scheduled for a much needed break. We will re-open and resume judgment and transfers shortly. Please excuse the inconvenience." He readjusted his thick framed glasses over his nose and bowed politely before disappearing behind the massive gate, leaving a rather unhappy array of squirming globes wiggling their tails in distress.

The red Lord of Doom sighed heavily, before closing a thick, fat notebook with a loud thud. He sometimes failed to remember why exactly he was forced to keep records by hand where a simple word-processor would make his job incomparably easier. But that was something he'd worry about later. The tea was achieving the desired effect of sharpening his dulled senses in preparation for his favorite time of the day, the one he'd been waiting for in vivid anticipation. He slid his chair to position it before the black, sleek widescreen that was slowly easing its way down from a mysterious slit in the hall's high, vaulted ceiling and smiled. The diminutive horde of pale-blue men hung around in a chattering multitude at the back of the room, tiny eyes glinting with utmost expectancy. They too had fallen prey to the merciless grip of the sneaky voyeurism he and a certain chubby pink-haired witch had been shamelessly indulging on for the past few weeks.

The pumping sound of her fortune-telling orb, which also functioned as a means of transportation, heralded her arrival a whole minute before she even emerged through an open window. It prompted Enma Daioh-sama to pull the square remote from his blue pinstriped tailored pants as he smiled knowingly. "Well I was wondering what was taking you so long, dear Baba. I was a second away from starting without you." He said in the deep rumbling bass that was so particular to his persona.

"Oh, those stupid little errands held me much longer than I expected. I swear fortune telling can be much more difficult than one would normally imagine. But come on, come on now Enma-Daioh, what are you waiting for? I certainly don't have all day and neither do you." The little old woman gestured a pudgy hand at the screen in complete agitation. "And where is that cranky old Namek? Does he want me to go all the way down to Chikyuu, grab him by the antennas and drag him out here?"

"Not more than I'd expect you to suddenly sprout blonde hair and morph into a beauty goddess." Said the God of Earth in an amused, mild mannered tone, a mere fraction of a second after having materialized out of thin air.

"You always give me the creeps when you just appear unannounced!" She screeched, corrugating her wrinkly face further and hopping up and down on the crystal ball at the same time. "Can't you at least get yourself some sort of bell to chime whenever you plan on teleporting?"

Kami-sama smiled in that warm, appeasing way of his as he and Muten Roshi's oldest sister flew to position their tiny corporeal expressions on the wooden desk of the crimson behemoth. "Now, now… Uranai-Baba, is your frail heart failing in your old age? No need to get all worked up so early on." He chuckled merrily.

"Oh… you blasted…"

"Stop it you two. Are you going to stand there bickering? I'm already 5 minutes into my lunch break and we haven't even started." Enma flicked the screen on, waiting patiently as a blur of squiggling lines came into focus to reveal the massive yellow dome of Capsule Corporation. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother letting you both in when I could just watch by myself."

"Hm, deep down you know it's just not the same Enma-sama. I could just stay and watch from atop the lookout myself, but Popo is neither as interested nor entertaining as you both are." Kami directed a quick smile in Baba's direction. "I appreciate your company, even yours, dearest Baba, as unfortunately overbearing as it sometimes is." He issued another deep chuckle.

"I'll deal with you later." She spat in derision, a multi-lined frown creasing her aged face.

Enma emitted an impatient humph. "Enough!" He squinted and looked avidly at the monitor. "I say this is my lucky day. That boy is going to earn me a whole lot of cash and is going to leave you two as bankrupt as that Chikyuu-jin Energy Company that went belly-up a few centuries ago."

"E… Enma Sama" Kami stuttered and eyed the man in bewilderment. "I can't believe you'd actually root on the boy to murder her just to add a few more coins to your already bursting pockets."

"Don't call 10,000 million zeni pocket money my friend" His eyes gleamed. "As for murdering her? You got that right. Even if it doesn't happen today, I'm sure it will happen sometime before the Androids arrive on earth anyway. _His majesty_ is much more likely to finish his stay on Chikyuu in a murdering spree than actually succumb to the little vixen." He issued a loud hearty laugh, as he sipped one last time on his now lukewarm tea. "As cunning as she is… and I'll give her that."

"You know too little about Chikyuu-jin women, Enma. Specially this one. She is one quick-witted, tongue lashing, ensnaring she-devil and I am sorry to say this, or rather glad, as it will make me 10 million zeni richer down the road, but that boy won't know what hit him, Saiyan Ouji or not. His regal ass is about to be handed over in a shiny silver platter and he doesn't even see it coming." She regarded the screen, features softening. "And what a fine, fine ass, shall I add too." Her eyes went back to pierce harshly into Enma's self-assured grin. "She will surely get hers and come out on top, so you'd better start getting my cash ready. I don't take credit cards".

Kami cut in, addressing Baba before Enma had a chance to word his reply. "If my memory doesn't fail me, you last time said she'd get her way and dump him the next minute. Didn't you?" Kami narrowed his eyes in the witch's direction, holding onto his staff firmly.

"Only a complete fool wouldn't! No one lies down with something that wild and doesn't get bitten. The consequences of pursuing him any further, going beyond a single night could prove devastating. I am sure the girl is smart enough to understand that. If she's brazen enough to keep at it for a while longer, I can assure you the physical and mental bruises will scare her away and make her lose interest in him before the Androids arrive. She will wash her hands and forget about him the second she realizes just what hell of a mess she got herself into."

"Shhh… I can't even hear anything!" Enma snapped before cranking up the volume on the multidimensional state of the art receiver.

"Hmmm, I suppose I should be ashamed of partaking in this insanity." Kami-sama muttered. "I wouldn't if it weren't for the sole reason that I get the entire pool were both of you to lose the bet, and I have a very good idea of just what to do with that much money." He smiled wholeheartedly a second away from fastening steady eyes on the slim figure of a fretful heiress.

She cackled. "Dream on Namek. I threw something in his pocket to make things a bit more interesting. Now let me watch. Remember the screen goes to snow in the censored parts.¹" The little witch mourned sourly.

--

Twilight befell the Capsule Corp. complex, enveloping it in a fresh, cool breeze that spoke the language of an approaching spring. The soothing, crisp wind flowed into the building making her a little chilly as she quietly paced in circles over the soft wool carpet of the cream and beige living room. It felt sinfully good; the fabric massaging her bare feet with its tiny, almost silken bristles that curled around the sensitive skin of her toes.

She approached one of the windows panes in order to study her own reflection as she held the telephone firmly to her ear. She looked… well… any other day she would have given herself the liberty of saying she looked simply great, a vision of glowing, ivory skin clothed in nothing but a basic white tank top and matching panties. She slid her eyes down the length of a body well-toned thanks to the marvels of endless aerobic workout routines that had crowded her morning agenda since she was nothing but a teenager. She had explored it all in that arena, be it traditional or experimental, but lately she had stuck to a particularly difficult drill that had turned out to be a ruthless son of a bitch. She wasn't sorry. It had rendered her muscles both lean and strong, and she secretly thanked herself for having had the resolve to stick to her body crunching, self-inflicted torment so relentlessly for the past few months. She hoped it had honed her strong enough to endure mating with a Saiyan, a force of nature as savage and untamable as Vegeta…

She bit her lips at the mere thought, muscle and guts already tensing in both fear and anticipation, sweet, sweet tangy anticipation. It had been such a tumultuous day, starting with that early showdown of sheer wills, going through the thunderous roaring of his wrath and having to recover from the emotional shambles it had left her in. Kami, she couldn't even begin to name all the feelings that had cruised through her in the span of one single day: guilt, trepidation, anxiety… and in the end, a womb wrenching need to… to simply have him that had shaken her off her initial disorientation and had pushed her to go on with the next course of action on what had to be the most backwards courting ritual in history.

She placed the palm of her hand on the cool surface of the window and lingered on the twinkling lights of West Capitol as they begun to spread and glint like fireflies over a dark blue meadow. She just knew he would be here any minute, could sense it in the air, feel it in every pore of her body that yearned to have another face off, that yearned to…

"Moshi moshi"

She quickly perked up, a blush spreading and burning her cheeks as if she had been caught with her hand on the cookie jar. "Ma… Mamma?"

"Oh… Bulma-chan, I am so glad you called, we were just talking about you…" The sound of her mother's hand smothering the receiver. "…weren't we dear… it's Bulma-chan, I wonder if she and Vegeta happened to finally get together." The blonde chuckled delicately, Dr. Brief's reply barely audible.

"Mamma! I heard that!" She fisted her free hand and frowned, suddenly feeling very much the feverous adolescent that had often bickered with her mother due to the latter's nosiness and her acute, almost scary, perception of things.

More muffled sounds.

"Mamma, are you going to pay attention to me?"

"Oh… yes, sorry honey, your father said you can do whatever you want to do. That you are a grown woman, but to please do be careful…"

The words "world class asshole" and "volatile boy" slurred through in her father's soft, concerned voice.

"…and that he's got a rather difficult temper. Bulma-chan, don't worry. I will speak to your father to ease his worries…"

"Mother! I… I, what are you talking about?" Bulma said, falling prey to her own mercurial character. "Me… and him" She emitted a low growl "… it's got nothing to do with Vegeta. You had been talking about going away on a picnic for so long, I thought today was as good as any other day." She rolled her eyes and sighed tiredly, feigning sincere indignity "This is so typical of you mom, to think that I would offer to stay and take care of the pets as part of a hidden agenda, I…" She gulped and bit her lip feeling the gross lie stretch her nose forward by the second.

"Oh dear, I am sorry. I just thought you had already accepted the reality of things and finally managed to give that boy a much needed release. Kami, he is so tightly wound he could snap any minute. Bulma-chan, you know…" she could feel her mother's breath closer against the receiver. "I think he really needs to blow off some steam, if you know what I mean…"

"Oh God, mamma, please be quiet!" Bulma looked around as if afraid someone would accidentally overhear her mother's zesty little remark. "I swear I shouldn't have called. Why don't you just tell me how your day's been?"

"…and by the sound of it, Bulma-chan you might need some of that yourself." Bulma drew in a profound breath. "I am just glad you both are finally going to…"

"Where are you right now?" She cut in, desperate to avoid hearing whatever it was her mother was about to say as part of her insolent, yet well-intended babble.

"Well…"

"It doesn't matter, please, Mamma, could you stay over for a few days and make it a camping trip? I… uh… I am having a little trouble with that experiment I told you about and it might turn out a little messy." Bulma approached the coffee table, eying the telephone cradle wistfully. Her mother had a way of becoming overbearing very fast and quiet honestly, she was already feeling the early buds of desire bloom inside her abdomen. The throbbing was proving increasingly difficult to tolerate by the second.

"I threw all you'll need in the satchel you're carrying. You'll find a hoi poi capsule there that's a rather luxurious cottage. I'm sure you and Pappa will enjoy your stay."

"Bulma-chan, don't you worry!" She sounded a little too delighted at the prospect, Bulma thought. "We will stay and camp under one condition…"

She gulped, feeling her throat constrict with her mother's ominous little preamble. "You have got to tell me how he kisses! One can only dream…"

"Good bye mamma." She clicked the off button and threw the phone on the couch. She'd deal with her parents later. There wasn't time to concern herself with anything other than facing a murderous ex-mercenary on the rampage. He was going to come and get her. She knew that as certainly and undeniably as the most basic algorithms, and she was nothing but an easy prey, a sitting duck in danger of being devoured alive by a vindictive, blood-lusty wolf. Kami… she had made herself the target of a rather deadly and very unstable alien…

She had a sudden overwhelming sense of respect for whoever had actually managed to couple with that hellion. Respect and an odd sense of violent jealousy, the kind that managed to crack her sanity and make her envy the lucky little tramps that had the luxury of getting in his pants on Frieza's ships or ports, even if it was only to get a brief animalistic taste of him. The way she felt right now, she could almost settle for only that.

She dismissed the dangerous thought and shook her head violently. No. She wouldn't, she couldn't throw so much work aside by lying prone in a simple mindless rump to satisfy an impudent sexual urge. She wanted more, a lot more, completely reticent to the idea of winding up another chink in his armor, another little hit and run. She was going to reach deep down inside his furthest, innermost parts and grab him, shake him, and rattle him like no one had before. Oh… she was going to play him, play him like a Stradivarius.

--

He peered into her room through the balcony window, sniffing the air and licking his lips like a huge predator cat. His eyes were nothing but onyx pin-points of fiery hate as he surveyed the area with the ease of someone that had hunted and killed a million times before, someone who could smell his target from miles away before pouncing on it and draining it ki-less. His heart hammered in his chest, thrumming violently, sending his blood in strong pulsating bouts throughout his body.

He tensed, inexplicably, every muscle in his body suddenly acute to something he couldn't quiet understand. _This was different_. It suddenly dawned on him, aware on some deep instinctive level that this kill, this felony, just wasn't _the same_. He searched and pulled a silk handkerchief that had strangely appeared on the pocket of his Capsule Corp jacket, the same jacket she had given him when he'd first arrived on the complex and had desperately needed a change of clothes decent enough to allow him to dispose of that heinous pink shirt she had maliciously thrown his way.

He blurred past the windows and stopped in the middle of her room, sniffing the ethereal piece of cloth he was holding, inhaling it deeply before throwing it on the floor. It inflamed his nostrils with her scent, allowing him to follow it down the luminous corridors of this maze-like house he hadn't yet memorized completely. He just hadn't had the time or the need to explore its sheer overwhelming dimension. He had always been more inclined to limit his interaction outside the Gravity Room to a quick shower and a swift kitchen raid.

And he moved… letting his hairy, sharp-fanged beast rouse from its dormant state to take over his mind and reason. Yes, this was different, there was something else threaded between the already overwhelming desire to murder. Something… smooth and silken, something liquid and hot, that melted over his every neuron making him stumble. He stopped, breath ragged, eyes looking down and teeth gritted as he placed a palm flat against the wall on the hallway. He clenched his eyes shut, cursing himself for this sudden, this… incomprehensible hitch in his otherwise steely, unwavering determination.

He felt that other… _thing_ intertwine around every nerve in his body, like velvet rose petals brushing against sand paper but he pressed his lips into a tight firm line, raising his eyes and furrowing his brow in a renewed effort to carry on his mission.

He could feel her, smell her standing like some wild, nectar-filled flower ripe and open to the wind. The womanly scent made his breathing intensify and his heartbeat gallop as he staggered through the hallway. _For fuck's sake, what was the matter with him_? He could feel the cold, smoldering ice of his intentions thawing under a tremulous, heated sensation that broiled in some deep unreachable part of him. He stretched his fingers repeatedly, trying to diffuse the suddenly overwhelming need to press his strong fingers over the porcelain skin of her neck, to… to touch her, to pin her under him and look into her eyes as he slowly and methodically drank her in. He wanted to see her thrashing underneath him, as he straddled her and suffocated her to death; wanted his punishing gaze to be the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes forever, her blue stormy eyes. Gods, yes… and he would be her last, her only one from this day on. Her rightful executioner. Something pulled at his groin sending a shiver through his muscles. He would carry that for the rest of his life to accompany him in the darkest hours of the night. He would remember her trembling body, her eyes fixed on his own, and her suffocated screams as he imprisoned her under him. He would relive just how good she felt writhing underneath him…

_Fucking twisted… sick… _He stumbled again just as he reached the lounge. He shook his head, trying to get a grip and rearrange his thoughts into something resembling coherence.

And just like that he straightened his spine and regained his resolve, nose flared as he set his jaw. He glided across the stretch of the living area heading for the kitchen. He leaned against the entrance to the room and…

He saw her, blue hair cascading freely over a shoulder. A shot of energy broke into a cold sweat over his entire body, a knot twisting in his gut. His eyes roamed of their own will over her entire length, so scantily clad, so much skin showing, as she concentrated on whatever the hell she was doing, cooking it seemed. He secretly thanked the gods that her scatterbrained parents had left for the day, leaving their little girl perfectly alone and vulnerable to him, to lay his bloody, filthy hands over her and have his way as he extinguished her to his pleasure.

She flicked her hair and he felt its rush of wild berry and vanilla spread over the space between them like tiny spores. It mixed with something else, something mouthwatering and delicious baking in the oven. Gods, he was fucking hungry. He wondered if he should just eat before resorting to the murdering part. His body was already suffering the backlash of endless hours without proper sustenance, of what was beginning to feel like deep cruel Saiyan starvation. Yet he didn't raise a single finger, finding himself suddenly prey to some manner of spell. _Chikyuu-jin witch._

How much longer was he going to linger there looking at her like a statue, she thought as a lip curled in deep self-satisfaction. There was a profound, instant gratification of knowing her calculations had been as precise as the timer on a bomb. She tasted the gravy the servo bots had mixed to season the roasted meat she was harboring in the fiery depths of the oven. The entire display, the whole thing was a no-brainer. No male, be it human or Saiyan was invulnerable to the power of food and… well the power of shapely flesh exposed to the view. She glanced down at her breasts seeing the nipples perked over two perfectly rounded globes, straining against her top as if they wanted to just burst out, making it explode. Lucky, lucky bastard, she thought. Doesn't know what he has coming.

She allowed herself to smile as she endured the laser heat of his gaze for what seemed like ages. She was frankly puzzled at his inertness, yet relieved he wasn't making a move for the kill just yet. If her calculations didn't fail her, she might just happen to make love and not war tonight. In that same train of thought and pleasurable anticipation, she decided to tick a box in her mental checklist. Prince Vegeta was alive, and it appeared he was susceptible to tiny, white lace undies.

He moved as quickly and gracefully as a lion hunting on the savannah, shortening the distance separating them in the midst of the eldritch silence. He raised his hand with the full intention of clamping it firmly on her smooth, elegant neck, hesitating in mid air while his fingertips grazed the shiny silken tresses. He met reality with disbelief, unable to understand why it was he hesitated… as he stood there completely rigid for what seemed like an eternity. He didn't move until he felt it surge in him once again, that same overwhelming need to smother her, to spend himself on her… and he moved his hand, fingers already beginning to curl. In that same infinitesimal fraction of a second, in that very moment of almost certain doom she swung around and regarded him with huge sparkling eyes, a snide little smile gracing her relaxed features.

"Do you want to taste it?"

His black irises danced in full-blown bewilderment, and he quickly pulled his arm back like a mischievous little boy caught in the middle of something, something really bad. His expression gave way to a tight, stern frown, followed by a jagged exhalation.

"What…" He beheld her in confusion.

"Do you want to taste it? I think it turned out pretty good, much better than what the servo bots usually come up with." She flashed a grin at him, strawberry lips revealing pearly teeth teasingly. Her arms were spread wide and drawn back as her hands gripped the edge of the countertop. The posture forced her chest outward making her breast push and stretch the thin material of her top.

Vegeta tensed visibly, an image of perfect stoicism, straining hard to keep his eyes in focus. "What the hell are you talking about" He croaked.

Bulma twisted around slightly and dipped one fine boned index finger on the warm, thick goodness of the savory sauce. She then held it in front of him, as friendly and gracefully as possible in an effort to avoid the tiniest hint of intimidation. She only managed to make him issue an impossibly deeper frown.

He parted his lips as if to say something, striving to reorganize the already swirling mess in his brain. He regarded her finger in utter confusion feeling his Saiyan senses suddenly become overloaded with the sweet, flavorful promise of food. It inflamed his guts and made his tongue water. Vegeta fought a desperate battle to concentrate… concentrate on whatever it was he had come here to do in the first place, he could barely remember. The heat of the oven, the deep, rich and multifaceted smell of the entire room twisted his stomach into a sudden audible roar.

Bulma smirked and cocked her head slightly. "God, you must be really hungry."

"Of course I'm hungry you fucking bitch." He almost whispered it, a thread of accusation interlaced with his words. His eyes harbored a tiny speckle of anguish as he looked into hers, face to face with the mistress of all his recent misfortunes. She suddenly felt another tiny needle of guilt prick at her conscience but was careful to throw it aside instantaneously. It wasn't easy. She took in his haggard appeared, eyes sunken and shadowed and hair tussled by the wind. In essence he looked _terrible_, as if he'd been to hell and back, clothes smudged with mud and dust, and skin slightly covered in sheen of sweat. And yet, there was nothing shorter than magnificent about his aura, every single bit of him screaming in pulsating waves of raw male magnetism. His heady presence washed over her making her skin tingle and her belly flip flop. Kami… only true royalty could manage to look so inviting in that state of dishevelment.

"Oh… yes… now that I remember Saiyans don't do well if they're not being fed properly." She moved to dip her finger on the gravy one more time, aiming to give him another chance. She knew he wanted to, could tell he did so by his wistful expression. It just seemed it would take a little more coaxing on her part.

"Try it… it's so… so good Vegeta. You're going to like it…" She raised her finger one more time, tempting him with the richness and tastiness of the sauce. "You're going to enjoy it…" She whispered in a soft, hopeful susurrus and both their eyes fell on the upright digit at the same time as if suddenly enthralled by it.

Vegeta may have been stiff and uptight, but he was also a bold and daring son of a bitch. She gave him that. He was never one to back down from a challenge, to be cornered into intimidation. He would always jump to meet his contender full-on, sometimes acting before thinking. It was something she had counted on as she plotted his fall and God did she want him to fall.

He closed his eyes, thick eyebrows knitted together in a frown, issuing a tacit invitation for her to touch her finger to his lips and… and she did, breath held in, waiting as he took her entire finger in his mouth. _Oh Kami_. She screamed mentally, feeling her knees turn to nothing but quivering jelly, almost buckling under her weight. She suppressed a sob as she felt the gentle sucking motion of his mouth send darts of hot fiery heat down her arm, his warmth and moisture… his tongue, making a quick shudder ripple through her entire body. He opened his darkened eyes and looked at her before issuing one last drawn suckle and releasing her finger. She remained as rigid as a board, dazed and numbed as she fought a very difficult battle with that portion nestled between her thighs in order to retain control.

He wasn't helping. He bore his midnight eyes into hers with all the intensity of his almost supernatural gaze, lips as perfect and sublime as an ancient work of art, face as stormy and almost inhumanly dark and tantalizing as a god of pure full-blown wanton.

_Beautiful. _

_Beautiful, beautiful..._ It was all she could think of as she lingered on him, feeling something wild flap and bat its wings inside her stomach.

She poised the same finger on her lips and sucked on it before she even knew what she was doing, deep seated raw, unbridled female need driving reason out a trap door in her mind. She thought she could see his chest rise and fall a little quicker as he regarded her with his usual scowl, something glinting in his eyes. And the seconds ticked by, Vegeta poised on the edge of… of something, savage and primal and infinitely fierce, feeling it extend over his entire body and hold him hostage, his eyes suddenly sliding to her bosomy chest. Something snapped and recoiled inside his abdomen; something surged and boiled in the middle of the sepulchral silence of the room. Oh gods, it was tearing at him. He could almost …

The oven dinged.

Bulma jerked in place and turned around, shivery hands flying to open the small door to the oven. She bent her knees in a gentle, lady-like manner to check on the perfectly well cooked delicacy she had been working on. Well, scratch that. She hadn't been working on diddly squat, not technically anyway. Her role in the preparation of the fastuous dinner boiled down to issuing orders to the bots who had concocted the whole array of what lay displayed on the counter tops in the isle on the middle of the spacious kitchen. They were also responsible for the juicy roast smoldering in the pit.

She closed the little oven door and straightened her spine, both cursing and thanking the stove for its surgical precision at slicing through a particularly dangerous moment. The air still hung with almost tangible electricity from their little silent exchange, a moment that could have driven her headfirst into a senseless rump that would only serve to satiate the most maddened, bestial need within her. It would make her miss the chance to have something much more substantial, way more gratifying.

"It's ready. The entire meal, completely ready." She sounded pleased with herself; her voice was relaxed as she sought mental equilibrium. She was going to need that in order to carry the evening out according to plan.

He looked a little unsettled, his face an unreadable mask. "Onna…" his voice was raspy. "…did you suddenly sprout a Saiyan stomach? What the devil are you doing?"

"That is none of your concern." She said it in that strange combination only she could pull off, half a smile, half a frown. "Why don't _you_ tell me what you're doing here Vegeta."

His upper lip curled back baring his fangs. He took a little step forward, reducing the space between them to a mere ten inches. "Don't tell me you don't know the answer to that question, little Chikyuu-jin bitch." He placed one strong hand on the counter top, the other palm drawn into a fist as he cloistered her in a little niche against his chest.

She inhaled sharply but didn't shy away, lips pressed into a firm line. His eyes roamed all over her face, unnerving her, making a very real sense of fear burst within her. "I know what you're up to. I know what you want and for what it's worth to you, I can tell you're rather courageous onna, much more than half the soldiers I commanded in my time. I still can't believe you're bold enough to go for it. "

Her eyes widened minutely, also wandering over the smooth planes of his face, over the exotic eyes that were as deep as they were haunting. "You… you know what I want?" Could he? A sudden sense of dread sank deep in her stomach. She had been so close, so close to her actual goal…

The corner of his mouth lifted up. "You think I won't go through with it? You're damn wrong. I don't give a shit about Kakarrot." He acquired a half manic, mocking tone. "You finally figured it out, didn't you? Realized just who you were harboring. A criminal, known and feared across the entire galaxy. You want me out… not just out of your house. You want me out of Chikyuu, out of your lives."

_Out? What was he talking about? If anything, she wanted him in-- in every sense of the word._

"Veg…"

"You dealt your cards really well you bitch, I almost feel like clapping. You take away the Gravity Room… you win, hindering my training with an almost fatal blow. You wouldn't think I'd dare risk my skin by actually murdering you for your insolence. You think I wouldn't want to incite that fool, Kakarrot's wrath. Sneaky little way of forcing me out into space again…"

She gazed at him, transfixed in his speech. "If I actually come and get you…" His face hardened immeasurably, making her heart beat faster. "You double win, don't you, little bitch. You hit jackpot. Kakarrot will be forced to land the final blow on me, avenging your death."

"Don't be stilly Vegeta." She hissed the words, eyes narrowed into slits. "Why would I want to actually manipulate you into kill me? Why would I want to wind up dead?"

He snorted derisively. "Don't underestimate me, onna. Aren't you the number one promoter of better life by the means and arts of a certain dragon? You'd be resuscitated quicker than I'd make it through the gates of hell."

She stared at him in bewilderment, opening her mouth to say something she just couldn't word. He thought she had purposefully and mechanically plotted his demise with a scheme worthy of Machiavelli. Kami, this could only complicate things exponentially. She wasn't working just against his cold, ruthless and infinitely uptight resolve to remain detached and untouched; she was working against his paranoia, his utter-full blown realization that she was his number one enemy.

"If that's so, if you think I plotted this precise moment in a deliberate attempt to entrap you, then why are you still going for the kill Vegeta? Why fall into the hole I purposefully dug for you?" It was taking all the effort in the world to concentrate. He was too close, almost pinioning her with his eyes alone.

"Because I'll take my time…" His voice was low and barely audible. "I'll enjoy tearing you apart limb, by limb, torturing you endlessly, keeping you alive as long as possible so that your death is as slow and painful as you could never imagine." His deep bass voice rumbled on with such eeriness she actually froze. "You may not know this, but let me break it in to you, Bulma of Chikyuu. I was a soldier in Frieza's army since the age of eight, used to killing for the pure pleasure of it. I had murdered more beings by the time I was ten than you could ever begin to fathom in your inane little mind, not because Frieza forced me to it, but because I _liked_ it. Loved it actually. It was all I lived for. By the time I was fifteen I had already amassed a small fortune with the payment I got for purges and special errands such as killing political leaders and other stakeholders that threatened the stability of the empire. By the age of twenty I was already a living legend, the worse bastard the entire four quadrants that fell under Frieza had seen, reputed for being not just a ruthless killer, but an unflinching torturer… and I didn't stop at males, I did my job to the best of my abilities, the nastiest stuff not even the Ginyu were used for. That is why I never made it to the special force. He needed me and my squad to remain a separate entity, to do the filthiest, sneakiest jobs, the ones that required true brainpower. He used the big idiots as pompous propaganda for big campaigns, where they could show off their fighting level to instill awe among the cowering nations."

He slid his palm so that both his hands were now gripping the counter top, and she looked into his eyes, forced herself to do so, as they pierced through her like shards of ice.

"I have seen so many deaths… I have single-handedly wiped out so many systems, you would pee your little panties if I were to toss a number." He grinned, leaning closer. "And it was very, very good. It was _fucking_ satisfying."

Her hand moved before she knew it, slapping him across the face with a resounding noise that hung in the air. She poured all her strength, all her shock and consternation into it. She was pleased to see his face swayed to the side as she had obviously caught him completely off guard. His thick eyebrows fluttered and he grimaced, wrinkling his nose and forcing his eyes to refocus.

"Bitch!" He hissed through his teeth. Gods… she had… she had actually had the nerve to… He looked at her startled, unable to comprehend her reaction. No one had ever… He was used to victims shrinking away in fear, to peers praising and/or being jealous of his reputation, but this… this, clear, uncompromising slap of… _disapproval_.

"Fuck you Vegeta!"

He moved back, face blank and unreadable. She was acting as if what he'd done was somehow _wrong_. Not just illegal, wrong in a way he was unable to understand fully. That single slap from a weakling with a fighting level of one, from a… a woman from an inferior race, it spoke volumes, it was as if for the very first time someone had made it stinging, sharply clear that what he had done had been quite simply… _immoral_.

"I don't care if you kill me. I don't care if you torture me even, believe me, and I simply don't give a damn what you think. Go ahead, assume what you will and do whatever you want, but that won't change the truth. You are a rotten, ill-twisted bastard and you should be tried and sentenced for all you did. I have no problems telling it to your face, you perverted little fuck!"

All this time she thought she knew… without really knowing, without… She had no idea about the reality, the crude, stark reality of who he had been. It just hadn't registered amid her hormones, her raging insane crush, that she was housing a perfect weapon of terror and mass destruction, an infamous, cruel piece of scum that had murdered, women and… and children and… Oh Kami.

She was tempted to look away, to run even, but something she couldn't quite name anchored her in place. She looked into his eyes, as he stood there like a devious little child caught red-handed for the very first time in his life. Her mouth had spoken out of its own will and just what would he do now… would he lose it? Would those words become the last ones she ever uttered?

"Gods woman, you're not _making points_." He snapped.

She regarded him carefully for what seemed like minutes, becoming lost in the black of his eyes. Just like that something began expanding inside her chest, a gratifying sensation arousing from the intimate moment they had just shared. Something told her this was the very first time he had bared part of his soul to anyone, as he'd narrated the scope of his sins, the utter reality of who he was. To have his undivided attention, to have tell her about him felt a little like an odd privilege, even if his speech was gruesome and sick. But God, he had talked to her. He had actually deemed her worthy.

As the deafening silence grew, her initial shock receded, leaving only a little surge of adrenaline cruising through her body. Something in her face softened minutely and she spoke in a soft even voice. "Well, if you want you can kill me, you can do so in any way shape or form you desire."

She strode daintily across the linoleum floor towards the isle in the middle of the kitchen, all the while giving him the luxury of staring at her backside. His eyes, his cold eyes, as dark as they were completely and undeniably male, slid towards the curvy mound of her bottom and hung there, reveling in the way her panties snuck in all the right places. His blood heat up with a sudden…

She sat on a high stool and started picking at a bowl of cherries distractedly. That's when realization sank like a boulder in his stomach. He was in real danger. A freezing thrill shot through the length of his spine making him tense his muscles. He had to kill her, he just had to. For real. She was… gods, she was fucking dangerous.

"Then… you… I…" He tried to string a sentence together and failed miserably, oddly caught up in the sight of her popping a cherry in her mouth and exploding it over her lips in a burst of tangy sugariness. And it looked, well, it looked simply delicious. His stomach uttered a deafening growl that bounced all over the kitchen, making him double over and fasten a hand on the countertop. It blinded him, the horrible pain that seemed to spear through his guts. Saiyan hypoglycemia was beginning to wreak havoc on his body and he suddenly sank to the floor, kneeling and gasping.

He was weak, very weak. She knew just how much. She had conducted several thorough studies on his alien physiology to know fully well what an entire day without food could do to him after a night of intense, bone splintering training. Compounded with deep emotional Ki disturbance, it could become fatal even, and it was all her doing. She knew if she were to fetch a knife and drive it through him this very second it would very well hurt him irreparably. It would buy her enough time to fly over and find Gokou. She would be able to issue a swift accusation and have him fly back here and finish this matter categorically.

Even if Son-kun didn't opt to end his life, he could very well humiliate him, all the while making it clear that he wouldn't hesitate a second time were he to come an inch closer to his Bulma-chan or anyone in Chikyuu for that matter. He would kill him if he were to mess with his loved ones, his family… his world, Saiyan kinship be damned.

She regarded him as he knelt there on one knee, a Prince slain in the worst of battles, one without honor, one that didn't even allow him the decency of a proper fight. She witnessed as his body ate at him mercilessly, rendering him powerless and unable to control its rioting.

It was now or never, love or war, a fork in the road that could very well mean going down a dark, shadowy path or remaining the untainted maiden. She clenched her eyes shut and issued a deep breath. He was going to kill her. He had the full intention of doing so. Who in their right mind would choose to bed the enemy? To ride him and actually, _Kami_… actually make love to him?

Was it sick that she wanted it even more? That after the initial shockwave of his venomous threats and his bloody backstory the need for him had returned tenfold? Was it crazy that she couldn't wait to explore every single inch of his body and drown inside him as she looked further within?

His breathing was very shallow as he held unto the countertop to pull himself up, turning his face away in an effort to avoid what were surely mocking eyes. She was more than likely scorning him for his weakness.

"Kill me later, Vegeta" She whispered. "My friends aren't coming. They called earlier and I have no idea what to do with all this food." There wasn't any veiled sarcasm in her voice, no underhanded insinuations.

Something strange flitted across his mind as he turned to glower at her. This entire scenario, the food, the… everything…. it had all been meant for her stupid little friends. "You were waiting for them?" He spat, a sudden unexplainable image of her boyfriend, flickering in his mind.

She nodded absently, lying blatantly in the process as she popped a single cherry in her mouth. She then smiled, a genuine, warm smile aimed solely at him. Something in his chest… something shifted.

"They called earlier and said they won't be able to come after all. Who the hell knows what the reason is. I was too pissed off to even ask."

Vegeta's lips twitched. "And you were waiting for them _all_, looking like that…" His eyes did a brief all-over glance at her.

"Does it hurt your Saiyan sensibilities?" Her smile grew wider as she poised yet another juicy cherry on her teeth.

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Gods, you're so vulgar… low-class and incredibly, fucking vulgar." He enunciated each word, almost caressing them in a growling masculine voice.

She didn't respond verbally, only looked at him with a placid and relaxed expression as she pointed towards a seat with her eyes. She crossed her legs, forcing his gaze to take notice of them… long and interminable porcelain legs. He quickly looked back up, adjusting the upturned collar of his jacket as if to shield himself from something, from whatever it was she represented.

They would eat together, him unaware that this was some sort of ill-conceived, twisted first date, her fully knowing what dates usually contemplate. Eating is a mere excuse for prodding, for warming up. And then… she grinned internally, barely able to restrain a sigh. And then… oh God, Vegeta… then it was time.

_A/N: Huge thanks for the great reviews on this fic. Comments are highly motivating. Tune in for Ch. 4. Saiyan loving coming your way soon… _

_¹__Funimation censorship._


	4. Grab a Ticket to Ride

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is the property of… not me. See if it was, this would have made it to the screen, it would have had its own saga. In fact, let's think of it as the unofficial adult rated Vegeta-Bulma saga for those who just need a fix. That obviously includes me.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 4

Step 5 – Grab a Ticket to Ride

_Earlier that day, 10am_

"Mommy, there's a man outside the window."

There was no particular intonation to the innocent remark uttered by the three-year old who sat on the restaurant, looking out the curved window pane. To her bitter dismay, the mindless conversation drowned her childish contemplation behind its incessant high-pitched buzzing.

"Mommy?"

"Honey, don't be silly, we're twenty stories high, now eat your hummus".

The child turned back to stare out in the direction of the cloudy expanse, forgetting the impossible task of being acknowledged by a group of adults fully engaged in social amenities. Her expression shifted from instinctive curiosity into a great toothless smile as she waved a tiny hand in the strange man's direction. He was probably an angel, although he looked a bit too dark and menacing in her opinion. She waved again, a lot more energetically this time, in an effort to catch the odd creature's attention but she dropped her arm when the planes of his face broke into a full blown snarl.

Vegeta's eardrums swelled, infused with the racket of car horns and the thundering chatter of the thousands of people going about their everyday routines in the city below. They looked like ants from where he hovered, every bit as small and insignificant as they truly were; nothing but creatures of the most backwards region in an otherwise rich and marvelous galaxy, nothing but crawling insects with the spine and the wit of Empire trash.

He still remembered the annoying feeling of dealing with beings of the underworld. They sometimes trailed the legions of soldiers as they moved from continent to continent in particularly populated planets, the whores, the merchants and slaves that spent their days tending to his men between the heated battles of each campaign. They brought their stench with them, a highly revolting aroma of both misery and common life that had always made his stomach turn. He recalled the times he'd flown to the summit of the highest peaks in the eve of war, in an effort to separate himself from the rest, if not by shedding the reality of his position as commander, at least by refocusing his self-assurance of who he was. Royalty. The most beloved and cherished son of Vegita-sei, the chalice of legendary blood… He frowned and clenched his eyes. Born in the days of red moonlight as if the gods themselves had heralded the birth of a king.

And now… He shook the sudden wave of dizziness that wrapped itself around his brain. Now he'd been reduced to the likes of a derelict, marginalized in this world by his status as an alien captive to the blue haired witch.

_Don't touch me. _It's what she'd say. _Don't touch me_, to the Prince of the greatest kingdom of warriors to ever grace the face of the universe. She'd reduced the most feared assassin in the quadrant, wanted in over seventy-four systems for crimes and terminal violations of public protocol into nothing but a pet monkey.

Vegeta's vocal chords reverberated in a growl so low it would have been inaudible to human ears. Thoughts of crystal blue eyes and delicate skin clinging to the fraying tendrils of his reason. He let his eyes roam over the wide chandeliered room before him in an effort to regain concentration and not let blazing fury shadow his judgment. It seemed to be some sort of hall were people gathered to eat, most certainly a food purveying place such as the ones he'd frequented in the most opulent systems during undercover reconnaissance missions.

She'd be damned to think he was unable to fend without her. It seemed in her infinite arrogance the woman believed him not only lowly, but also stupid. Little bitch, with the loud mouth and the whiplash attitude that would certainly get her killed, today… today was the day. A sudden dark vision of her squirming body assaulted his senses making him spiral a couple notches down into near madness. He focused on the tiny human spawn that kept gesturing in his direction and he snarled, placing a ki glowing palm against the thickness of the glass.

A cascading explosion of crystal rained throughout the room, the sound of it interlacing with the terrorized screams of the clients. They all stared agape in his direction, some shrieking in barely contained panic, some frozen in sheer disbelief.

"I told you", the little girl's ecstatic voice came in dissonance to the generalized upheaval.

Vegeta landed his heavy black boots on the Oriental carpet and strode gallantly towards the center of the room coming to meet face to face with a waiter that rushed towards him looking as fierce as mouse.

"What… what the hell do you think you're doing man?!" His words were a broken cry as Vegeta's stern eyes raked the circumference of the hall with clinical precision. "I'm ta… ta, talking to you."

Vegeta darted a look in the man's direction, not a single muscle twitching in his stony features. The waiter felt his knees threaten to dislodge, bodily functions seconds away from destabilizing.

"I said what the… the hell…" The unfortunate worker thought the stranger's face was like nothing he'd ever seen in the many years he'd tended to the rich and the eccentric on one of the most renowned fine-dining restaurants in West Capitol. His features were not only exotic; they were suffused with an otherworldliness that could have only been dreamt in a novel of science fiction. In fact, the little freak gave him the creeps. The waiter watched as the intruder popped a small card made from some sort of iridescent metal from the pocket of his jacket.

"Human, this is a tri-cristalyte card. See that food is brought and deduct the cost accordingly."

The waiter gawked at him for a good two seconds before Vegeta felt his blood begin to boil in impatience. He grabbed him by the collar and lifted him an inch of the woolly floor. "If you have any sort of question or comment, I suggest you spit it out this second you inconsequential little idiot, unless you want to kiss your miserable life goodbye"

"What's Tricrisolide?" The man spoke as quickly as he could, already seeing his entire life play before his eyes.

Vegeta threw him on the floor with a growl. In the middle of his inner turmoil he'd been foolish enough to forget Chikyuu was still years away from being a space-faring race, evidently oblivious to the concept of universal currency and inter-galactic tenure. The waiter scrambled back on the floor, resisting a very real urge to bolt; clients, employment and debts all be damned.

Vegeta reached into his pocket again and produced a black credit card the onna had tossed his way a mere two days after returning from space. "Is this something you recognize?"

The man stretched his neck to peer more intently at the impressive card in the hands of the mysterious stranger. "Y…y…yes, of course I do sir" A black card? Only very wealthy, important people owned that type of credit and this guy had one. "Who are you?"

"Prince Vegeta."

That explained it all. He was probably some erratic member of royalty from a distant foreign region. Those people were always weird to say the least.

"Sir, let me verify if the credit line is in proper standing. You know… standard procedure." The waiter grabbed the black plastic tongue and waved it at a distressed young female waiter, urging her to take it away. She disappeared with it behind a counter only to emerge a couple of minutes later. They felt like the longest two minutes in the life of the waiter who still preferred the relative safety of remaining on the floor.

"I'm afraid it's… it's been declined." She nearly threw the card at Vegeta before retreating as fast as she could.

"What the hell does that mean human?" Vegeta nailed the waiter to the floor with two black spears of rage.

"Sir, I believe the card is unusable. It appears the credit line has been cancelled. Do you posses any other means of payment?"

Vegeta's teeth were pressed together, tense brackets of slow smoldering hatred forming around his mouth. The woman had delivered the final blow, slaying her enemy in the most despicable of battles, one without honor. She pulled the plug on her benevolence, sinking him into the most humiliating helplessness.

"Sir?"

Vegeta backed down with the grace and lightness of a body skilled to move with perfection. He strode back the way he came and disappeared, leaving nothing but a flash of indigo as he dashed into the skies.

"I told you" The little girl's voice rung loud in the midst of the lingering silence.

_Evening 11pm_

Four-hundred and sixty nine. That's the exact number of times she'd drummed her pencil on the table in the past fifteen minutes. She sat there, resting her jaw on her palm and banging the damn stick of wood and graphite on the surface of the counter as she studied some sort of Chikyuu-jin book she'd produced from the depths of a drawer. Four-hundred and ninety eight… as she resumed the successful task of setting his already rioting nerves on edge.

She pouted, the little hellcat, as she flipped a page so thin it looked almost translucent against the warm kitchen light. And she quirked an eyebrow, making soft humming voices as if uttering some Chikyuu-jin incantation that for all he knew could be meant to turn him into an earth-crawling creature she could squash under her feet.

Five-hundred and thirty. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second as she drabbled something on the sidelines of her textbook, completely immersed in its content as if it were the single most fascinating thing in the face of the universe. He could spot charts and graphs that seemed to fit into some sort of scientific context. Whatever it was, she looked intent on devouring it up to the last ant-sized squiggle.

Bulma stretched her spine, flicked her hair and bent her neck slightly. Her eyes remained fixed on the god awfully boring book on the surface as she begun massaging the soft curve of her shoulder with slow-moving fingers. She shut her eyes and tilted her head a bit more to the side as her slender figures worked the knot that had already formed from sitting in the same position for so long. She uttered the tiniest, most flitting of moans, almost inaudible in the middle of the relative silence of the kitchen. Truth of the matter is the little display of self-pleasuring ministrations wasn't a part of the grander scheme. She _was_ getting more than a little stiff from having to pretend she was mesmerized by the Epistemic Correlations of the Kapstrak Theorem-- which she was, just not tonight. This evening she was a little more interested in the anatomy and response of alien creatures to the applied pressure and heat of human touch.

She threw her head back just a little more before parting her lips to emit a follow-up whisper of a moan, fingers gliding slowly down the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She allowed herself the ghost of a smile before refocusing steady eyes on the text and reclaiming her previous position, pencil held between two fingers. Her eyes shifted to look at him and see what he was doing. He was nearly done with the opulent banquet. It had steadily disappeared under his almost desperate hunger; meat, vegetables, desserts, everything the servo bots had managed to produce in their day long cooking spree.

She couldn't avoid getting caught up in the way he ate, every now and then closing his eyes to exhale through his nostrils as he savored the decadent menu she'd deliberately ordered, course by course. She could tell he was enjoying it, he just was better at demonstrating it unconsciously than at actually saying it. All she could do was indulge in his body language as he licked his lips without thinking she'd notice.

Before she knew it, her legs uncrossed out of their own will, toes brushing his leg accidentally. Both their eyes widened and fastened on each other simultaneously, Vegeta's fingers poising one of those fruits humans called "cherries" on the curve of his lower lip.

"I'm… I'm sorry." Bulma crossed her legs as tightly as possible, trying to look both innocent and demure.

Vegeta's eyes remained as sharp as big black darts, his entire face the picture perfection of a glowering beautiful demon. She couldn't avoid the icy shiver that crawled up her spine, almost feeling like a helpless rodent about to be devoured alive by a big merciless feline. Her eyelashes spread wider in tension as she waited for him to shift his gaze but he remained unmoving, the fiery intensity of his look eerily fixed on her sapphire one. She swore the man could stop an enemy on his tracks and reduce him to a boot-licking, spiritless coward with those eyes alone.

Bulma went back to resting her jaw on her hand and made the conscious titanic effort of remaining undisturbed under his scrutiny. She swung her pencil back and forth over the surface of the counter.

Five hundred and fifty seven. Vegeta growled between gritted teeth while she resumed the tapping of her pencil. "Cut it out little bitch, unless you want to die quicker than expected." He hissed under his breath regarding her with a look so full of contempt it seemed almost supernatural.

Bulma's eyes drifted to him lazily, pencil silent at his command. He unhooked his gaze from hers, pleased at her obeisance, and went back to finishing his meal which now consisted of the last cherries on the bowl.

And she tapped once more.

He leaned forward, hand shooting with lighting speed to hold her wrist and pull her close, eyes a few centimeters apart from his own. "Don't fucking tempt me, onna. You're treading dark waters here." A gasp caught up in her throat as his big strong hand held her wrist firmly, not allowing her to pull away even as she tried.

"I am a better swimmer than you think, Ouji-sama." She allowed herself the pleasure of caressing each word, eyes wandering over his face as she said them. His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly but his hand remained rigid, every muscle in his body as tense as a coiled spring.

He suddenly loosened his grip allowing her to pull free and lean back again, brows furrowed. "Do all Saiyans need anger management lessons as desperately as you do, or is it just you that's an asshole?"

Vegeta snorted. "Oh, I feel hurt. Care to come up with anything else, you low-born, two-faced skank?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed. He had that enraging little smile of self-pleasure that she wished she could just slap of his face. It only kindled her fire, that pulsating need to press him on the floor and abuse him until he said stop.

He snatched another cherry off the bowl. There was something decidedly sinful about the way he ate it, it made her want to buy shipments of the little orbs and feed them to him one by one, even if she risked loosing a finger in the process.

"Sure, what about certified big-headed, jerkass." God, she wanted him bad. For a moment there she thought at the irony of their exchange.

He braced his elbows on the table, insults rolling off his skin like he had heard it all. In fact he seemed quite amused by her tirade.

"I think you're missing the big picture here, onna. I meant every word I said earlier, which means your every breath from this moment on belongs solely to me. I would suggest you start saying your prayers, but then again, there is no point to it, is there? It won't save you from kissing this revolving dump of a planet goodbye. Even if your friends manage to snatch you back from the pit of hell, you'll be haunted by images of me and feelings of my hands on your body tearing you down bit by bit. That is, if I don't manage to kill them all before they're able to pull you back from the dead." He was enjoying his little speech, eyes gleaming with excitement over the thought of his twisted pleasures.

Bulma brought down her arms on the counter and looked him straight in the eye. "I didn't set you up to have Son-kun kill you, no matter what your paranoid little mind tells you Vegeta. You don't _have_ to kill me. In fact I don't think you will, why would you want to fuck up your only chance at getting by in this "dump" of a planet as you so lovingly call it? I think it's better for you to accept for once and for all who the hell holds the key to this place and all its goodies, because it sure as hell isn't you, isn't that right?"

He looked at her with malice, a snide smile etched on his face. "Are all Chikyuu-jin women vain little bitches? I may not know this rotten place well enough to live the way I should and you may get a kick from reducing me to the likes of a stray dog, but I assure you onna, this is nothing but a grain of sand in the expanse of the galaxy. Let me make it clear to your dimwitted mind. If I wanted to, I could throw you in that Gravity Room, start the engines and snatch you away right this minute. I'd like to know just how long it'd take you before shriveling down to a whimpering mess when you're faced with life in the frozen hell of outer space. You'd be screaming at my feet, begging me to put you out of your misery."

A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his chiseled lips. "No one would hear you scream, not your friends, not that fool of your boyfriend, not Kakarrot. I can mask my Ki well enough to prevent that moron from finding us before I'm done with you. And if I run out of food before I am able to refuel… well, I guess I could always eat you. Isn't _that_ right?"

Bulma tried to push the wayward thoughts of being lost in space with this dangerous man, no one able to hear her scream as he ate her… in the most wretched sense of the word. She was quite unable to think straight under the double-entendre. Could he actually mean he'd savor her just how she thought he meant? Would he use and abuse her for nights on end, making her satisfy his most warped pleasures? She had to resist the urge to jump on his lap and extend her arms for him to shackle her that very second. Kami, this man was very bad for her.

"Vegeta, you're such a…a…" She couldn't quite find the right words to describe the enormity of what he was, something so wild and wicked, so dark and perverting it was impossible to stare into his eyes without feeling very, very… dirty.

He leaned back and crossed his arms. "What?"

"a…" She balled her fists, shoulders drawn up as her face contorted. God did he have to be this insufferable? Did he have to make her want to make him scream in pain _and_ in pleasure at the same time? Her eyes burst into blue flames, pearly teeth grating as she sputtered, scrambling for whatever it was that could define this very wretched man. He was such a… such a…

"…bad man?" He tilted his head and graced her with a mocking tone. She secretly wished she could toss the damn pink shirt his way again just to make it clear.

"Yes, yes, bad. Very bad! So bad you deserve to be whipped and chained and…" She berated herself when she felt her mind trail off into some dark, deviant fantasy. "And slapped and…" Kami, was she insulting him or actually promising sex to him?

He snorted, rolling his eyes at her little outburst. "And just who the hell's going to do that? Daddy's little prissy prude? Is she going to go fetch her trusty idiot friends to blow the really big bad devil to the next dimension for her? She won't dare soil her hands herself now would she, she fucking grabs and moves her peons to befit her moods while she sits on her pampered ass all day. And the fools bow down to her and tend to her every whim, quick to dispose of the dirt she'd never come close to."

Bulma stared at him more than a little dumbfounded. It was strange how she suddenly felt at a loss of words, oddly unable to refute his stinging comments. She hated it when he looked at her like that, as if he knew her better than anybody else, as if he was capable of telling her things no one else would. But this wasn't about her. This was about him. She couldn't lose sight of her single most intense goal in life, crawling under his skin to unearth his monsters and appease her thirst. Kami, she needed to know the wealth of his reality, the bitter truth about what seemed to be a complete inability to show one thread of sensibility. It would haunt her to her dying day if she didn't.

She tightened her cherry flavored lips in a thin line, brows knit together. "Is it true what you said, about… about joining Frieza's army when you were only eight years old?"

He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, obviously startled by the sudden personal question. His eyes narrowed to slits and averted her for a long lasting moment. "Hn".

She took it that was as close as she'd get to a yes.

"Why?"

That simple word, as short as it was, fell on the room with iron heaviness. Vegeta darted his eyes back to her, unable to muster a proper response. No one had ever asked him that, as incredible as it sounded to his very own ears. _Why_. A world and a half was the answer, a wealth of reasons and yet none that was simple enough to put into proper words. _Why_. Why was it he'd been handed over from the arms of glory as the succeeding King to a powerful race to become the marionette of a megalomaniac. Why had he been turned from a warrior into a killer, from royalty into a professional assassin? And Otousamma… why had he done what he did, when he did. Or the Ice-jin bastard… why had he delighted in him so much, eager to make him his perfect weapon of intelligence, crime and mass terror? He was his masterpiece, he'd been his masterpiece.

Bulma could almost drown in the whirlpools that were his eyes, suddenly brooding in what seemed like a violent inner turmoil. She couldn't quite comprehend the notion of a child committing the atrocities that he had. It was a scenario nearly impossible to grasp for someone that grew up in the comfort and safety of a nurturing family. A sudden wave of disturbing emotion constricted her heart, but she remained unflinching.

"That is none of your business." He said dryly.

"Is it true you liked killing? Did you love going about the galaxy purging and destroying with no mercy, including women and children, sentient beings that had no way of fighting back?" She blurted the words before she could hold them back. Something in her soul stirred violently, hoping for a response that would assuage her fears. _God, please say no, say no._ She could kiss the hands of an unwilling murderer, wash them with the purity of her spirit, but she couldn't lay with the likes of Frieza, of a deeply diseased bastard who actually enjoyed extinguishing lives just because he could.

Vegeta's eyes lingered on her for the longest full minute of her entire life, making her think the answer was lost in some deep place he could no longer reach. Kami, was he gone forever? Had he lost the last shred of anything resembling a soul with no hope for retrieval?

He cocked his head proudly, looking at her with his usual self-assurance. "Saiya-jins are warriors, onna. What the hell is there to killing weaklings? It's done out of necessity. Doing so isn't a feat, if anything it is a…" His eyes unfocused and he shifted them sideways, muscles tensing in his face.

A disgrace? A humiliation… worse, an aberration. She knew the answer very well, could see the struggle within to deal with the crude reality of what he'd become.

"Vegeta…" She didn't know what she was starting to say. Her chest swelled with a mixture of violent passion, the kind that superseded lust and reason. It was strong and thorough, beginning to wrap her heart and soul in its warmth. She could almost feel it growing as the seconds ticked by, both beautiful and scary, rooting itself in the deepest corners of her soul. What was it? What was this feeling that made him the axis of the universe itself? _He said no… he said he didn't like it, he said it wasn't true… he said it wasn't true._

He went back to glaring at her. "That is beyond the point, woman. My one and only concern is achieving my rightful status as the Super Saiya-jin prophesized by my people. Whatever I did or didn't do is none of your business. All you need to know is you dug your own grave the minute you decided to fuck around with my type. Anyone stepping between me and my goal, anyone at all is bound to pay with his life." His eyes twinkled with a distinct fierceness whenever he spoke about the Legendary and despite the poisonous threat embedded in his words, she felt a twinge of guilt. What did it feel to be denied the possibility of earning what you've desired since you have a memory? What is it to chase a goal that seems easy enough to grasp and a lifetime away to attain at the same time? And hearing the whispers, of all those people who built you up on a pedestal of great expectations when you were nothing but a child, how is it to fail them every day of your life?

The overwhelming, chest-bursting impulse to aim for the kill exploded through her senses. She could feel that question forming, the one that would lead her down the path she came to walk in the first place, the one that would inexorably get her _him_. She picked at the bowl of cherries in the middle of the counter distractedly, eyes lowering.

"And why is it _he_ did it then? Why Son-kun and not you Vegeta?"

He regarded her in outrage and a fist came to bang on the table noisily, making both the bowl and Bulma jump in place. "You fucking ask way too many questions, woman." His voice was a very low growl. She could almost feel an oppressive way of energy irradiating from him.

"Well, haven't you wondered what the difference is between you and him that allows him to turn Super-Saiyan when in fact, logic defies it?" He frowned, looking completely mind-boggled. It seemed he was startled at the way she'd managed to paraphrase the question that had maddened him for the past few months.

"You were born with the highest power level ever recorded I hear, and you are an elite fighter, isn't that what you call it? Not just any Saiya-jin, but the actual crown Prince, a descendant from the royal bloodline. In other words, you're supposed to be the best your race had to offer. So what does Son-kun have that you don't Vegeta? Why him and not you, have you _really_ thought about it?"

It all happened very quickly. He shot up from where he sat and grabbed the stool he'd been using. He threw it against the farthest wall with such blinded fury the entire kitchen seemed to rattle with the force of the impact. The bang was so loud it made Bulma jolt to her feet in genuine fear. He walked around to where she stood looking every bit about to make his death promise a reality.

Bulma's heart stopped as he grabbed both her wrists from behind, holding them together in a viselike grip. She inhaled sharply as she felt his hand tighten, his breath caressing her ear. "I think I'm done talking."

Well, she could almost read the newspaper headlines. Bulma Briefs, heiress to a multi-billion zeni empire killed by an alien intruder. Hell, it would make it to both the West Capitol Times _and_ the City Enquirer.

"Veg…"

"Shut up" He whispered in a deadly tone as if it was some sort of dark secret. "You are through talking too."

"If you just let me speak you'd probably understand what I'm getting at you prick!" He pressed his chest against her back, his legs grazing the back of her own. "I'll tell you what you're unable to see under that suffocating obsession of yours, and if you don't like it, well too damn bad."

He growled, making his chest rumble. The sound seemed to vibrate throughout her entire body, heightening her trepidation.

"You have five seconds onna." God, he really was desperate to extricate the answer to the puzzle. Not even his blinding hatred of her managed to get in the way of him wanting to hear anything that could help him get to Super-Saiyan fast enough.

"I don't really know the answer, but the one thing that comes to mind is just how much more…_relaxed_ Son-kun is. Haven't you noticed?" She grimaced, hoping he'd catch her drift. "From what I've learned being his friend all these years, he trains hard as hell but also possesses an unbelievable freedom of spirit. He doesn't ever let the desire to be stronger consume him. He lets go and walks about with a merry disposition, not forcing his Ki out. He lets it thrive and swell inside him free and undisturbed. In other words Vegeta, his Ki is in perfect balance and it shows don't you think? I think the glowing strands of golden hair are more than enough proof of that."

Vegeta's gaze lowered, focusing on a sudden realization that begun spreading in his mind like rapidly dividing cells. "His ki? That third rate bumbling fool has the ki quality of a chimp."

"Well, that ki grows stronger everyday while yours seems to grow weaker and messier the harder you tr…" She bit her lip and clench her eyes as a strong thigh parted her legs from behind.

"Careful my little bitch. Don't push your damn luck or you'll regret it."

She opened her eyes and swallowed, trying to focus on the issue at hand and not the muscled leg between her quivery ones.

"What I mean is, the more clouded and stressed out you become, the worse your Ki destabilizes, and it begins to burn in disarray, draining you instead of empowering you. You know, in Chikyuu we believe spiritual force weakens, and in doing so, well it fucks up your system real bad." She'd spoken her mind, an absolute truth so simple only a genius could have worded it.

"Stressed?"

"Stress. It's a Chikyuu-jin term I suppose you've never heard. You could call it a mental block. It suffocates Ki and can eventually wind up almost depleting it. And isn't Ki the whole issue here? For some reason I don't think forcing it up day in day out is paying off, is it?"

He groaned against her hair. "Good try. The hell you know about shit, onna. If this is your way of earning time before I put an end to your life, you should start thinking about something else real fast."

She turned her face to the side, sliding her pupils to the corner of her eye. "Whatever possessed me to actually give you any valuable piece of information you jerk! I should keep anything I've managed to study and deduce through scientific method to myself don't you think? Screw you. You're going to kill me anyway."

He stiffened against her body and tensed her arms with his cruel grip on her wrists. He suddenly found himself unable to word a quick reply. Instead, his mind twirled around a thousand miles a second, emotion and thoughts colliding violently.

"And how the devil do you know this?"

"You should see your Ki chart Vegeta, I suppose you haven't? Well I have. Pappa monitors your readings to adjust your torture chamber so you don't wind up burnt to a crisp in a tomb of molten metal. It looks like a picture drawn by a hobo on crack getting electrocuted." It was true and it had come to a realization that fitted perfectly into her complex mind-game.

His fingers squeezed her delicate wrists pressing them against her bottom. "I'm tired of this game onna, tired of you, of everybody, of this planet."

It hurt. His hold was so strong and merciless, pain shot through her body. She supposed she had to hurry it along lest he snapped her neck like a twig in the spur of the moment.

"I'm tired too Vegeta and on second thought, I'll give you your GR back, you can have it. In fact I can go work on it this very minute if you just… if you just don't kill me. Is that a deal?" Her breathing had become shallow, her arms numb from being constrained in such an unnatural position.

Vegeta's mouth opened to word an instinctive approval. She was giving him the single most important thing back. He'd managed to work himself to the alpha position, yet…

"Don't you want it back? Come on Vegeta, I thought you didn't want your training interrupted, Isn't that what you once told me? To never interfere and let you do things your way?"

He let go of her, taking a few steps back, never taking his gaze off of her. She turned around to face him, grimacing as she massaged her aching wrists with gentle hands. "I think we've reached an agreement."

"Not so quick, you little slank. What the hell do I do to…" He looked terribly uncomfortable, his expression a gale of emotions.

She huffed and feigned complete exasperation. "To heal your Ki and bring it back to a normal balance? What in the seven hells do I know Vegeta! Chikyuu-jin try several things, meditation, acupuncture, massage therapy, Kami, all sorts of contraptions to get the deal done. I couldn't fucking care less. Why the hell don't you try getting laid!!"

His eyes bulged comically, lips parting in shock and outrage.

She kept tending to her frail wrists, looking indignant and flustered. "What? Shouldn't be hard to find an expensive bitch to give you a full-body massage and pump that ki back to normal if you've got enough money to pay for that kind of service. Now, don't fucking ask me where to go and get that. An ugly, diseased whore from the streets won't really have the skills so you'll have to ask around until you find a clean, reputed consort agency. Just make sure you tell her to work all those tension knots and do a very, _very_ thorough job, unless you want to waste your time. Get her to monitor your ki readings afterwards, because it will freaking take months to get that jumble of a map to something resembling good."

He looked so aggravated she half-expected him to start foaming from the mouth. "You mentioned other methods, speak!"

"What, like meditation? As if you could sit down and work yourself into a state of relaxation. You're mental patterns are that of a rabid dog's Vegeta. As for all the other as-seen-on TV methods, all I can say is good luck with that".

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, running his hands through the uprights spikes of his unruly mane. He begun pacing around like a caged lion, swearing under his breath in a language she couldn't understand. She supposed it was his native tongue. It rolled over her in its sensuous, exotic undulations almost distracting her from her little award-worthy act.

"What's the problem? Don't you have the money to pay a high-class whore?" Her dry tone was drenched in sarcasm, but her comment was cut short by him reaching into his pocket, grabbing a sleek black card and throwing it at her. The shiny piece of plastic hit her in the midsection before dropping to the floor.

"Funny you should ask. Are you getting a kick out of this, you wench?" He produced a second card made out of the most beautiful metal she'd ever seen. Its lustrous display of iridescent colors shined under the kitchen's traplights. "The crystallite in this transact card alone is worth more than half your planet. It's triple solidified pluralescent quartz with multiple layers of twenty-eight karat pure crystal platinides." She stared at it in juvenile awe, pushing down the urge to analyze the mind-boggling material. "Very few people have something like this in the depths of this quadrant, the kind of transact card that gets you places no ordinary being goes. It remained strapped to my thigh the whole time. And to your backwards society it means fucking nothing." He roared, slamming it on the counter behind him.

She gulped and looked at him in consternation. She'd overseen the fact that all this time she'd been dealing with the crème of the crop in terms of intergalactic crime. This was not a pitiful slave to a common villain; this had been the best remunerated, most cherished angel of death to the most powerful being in the whole of the galaxy. She had been supercilious enough to forget that.

She pushed the wayward thoughts away and regarded him with a look so sour it blared murderous hatred. "Tough shit, Prince Vegeta."

Vegeta clenched his eyes, enraptured in a moment of infinite vulnerability that made her lose track of time. All she could do was stare at him, drawn into the way his lids twitched as they remained closed, making him look nothing short of breathtaking.

Life can sometimes corner you into a place of darkness so complete, so immeasurable the world seems to stop and spin back on its axis. One moment silence wrapped around them snugly, the next a pain ridden growl tore from the depths of his chest. He slid an arm across the counter behind him trashing everything on the floor. And Bulma gasped in pure unadulterated terror. God, his eyes… they were different, broiling with something so demonic she began trembling. He strode towards her and clamped his hand on her throat, constricting it ever so slightly, but enough to make her begin clawing at his neck in desperation.

"No… Veg… Vegeta…" Her voice was strained under the pressure of his steely resolve. "No…"

He looked into her eyes, his lips a couple inches from hers. "You… you have to die Onna." She had to. In his mind it was the most conclusive, more absolute truth. There was something so deeply unnerving, so unbelievably disturbing about the way she spoke to him, the things she managed to make him consider. A liability, to his kingdom, to his universe, a sacrifice to be made.

"Nooo." Eyes the color of deep blue seas narrowed at him as she held his wrist.

"Yes. And I won't stop with you, I can't. It never ends Bulma of Chikyuu."

"I'll do anything, anything, Vegeta!" She couldn't breath, she genuinely couldn't. "I'll… I'll…" God, she had very little time to make it happen. "I'll be yours."

His brow furrowed as he pierced her with his gaze. And his hold tightened. "I'll… help you. Just don't touch them, don't lay a single finger on my parents, on anyone else…" She sounded genuinely terrified, choking on her words as her skin began to pale.

His hand on her neck trembled with the strain to retain control; a second away from giving in to the release only murder had given him throughout his years of servitude.

"I'll be… I'll be your… bed kitten."

He inhaled, transfixed in her face, pupils dilating. "I'll do it Vegeta, please… let me go."

His eyes, as immense and dark as storms from an alien planet wandered over her straining face. And he couldn't move, he couldn't think, Gods, his concubine… she'd be his concubine.

"I'll do it…"

The pressure on her neck diminished but his scorching hand didn't move. And a long, very long moment dragged on, Bulma clinging to the last threads of desperate hope that he'd say yes. _Please say yes, Vegeta. You and me, please say yes. Don't let it end this way._

He remained there, holding her life literally in his hand, ready to pull the trigger on his hatred and yet… She looked at him, eyes so wide and luminescent, skin so fair and smooth it would make a Cynaran priestess green with envy… and her lips… the color of rubies, as ripe as some delicate thing that was thoroughly forbidden. Waves and waves of hair the color of the seas of Vegita-sei. His concubine… yes, why not. Gods, why not give in.

He let go of her neck, the thunder of his emotions appeased as if having found some long-lost glimmer of hope.

"You… you fail, you pay. You and your kin, your entire race."

Bulma touched her hand to her neck, chest rising and falling. "I won't."

He moved back, suddenly a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of this inexplicable night. "I won't fail, Vegeta, but you have to let me do it right. You have to let me… let me go about it my way, let me do things you've probably never done before. I can't afford not to do a good job and neither can you. You know that." He regarded her in silence.

Her body still quivered from the heightened sensation of being so close to death, yet it also shivered from the pleasure of tasting success. It was thrilling, pure adrenaline. "And this is private, only between you and I." She began moving towards him really slowly, all composure slowly regained. "I won't tell, so you don't have to feel… inhibited. I can't work with that, Saiyan." She reached him and pressed a single finger to his chest, eyes fixed on his. She ran it down his chest, stopping before reaching his navel. "It's all or nothing if you want to go anywhere."

He looked into her eyes as they sparkled with the intensity of sapphires and he could hear an instinctive warning of self-preservation go off in his mind. It was a tingle in his spine he hadn't felt even in the face of war, but he never took his eyes off of hers. Whatever it took… whatever it took onna.

"Yes." He hissed against her lips. She issued a slanted smile and retreated feeling the master of a world loomed by her very own hand. She sauntered towards the wide arch that led to the enormous lounge, hips swaying slightly. When she reached it she turned to look at him, sliding a hand unnecessarily up the length of the frame and she studied him with the self-confidence of a woman too smart for her own good.

He remained there; gracing her with a three quarter profile and looking like a boy about to be initiated into God knew what. She extended a finger and summoned him with it, whispering under her breath "Then, come over…" She disappeared leaving him standing in the middle of the kitchen, too stricken to form a logical thought. The clock ticked by, a few seconds more, ringing in his ears, until his legs moved out of their own will and he followed her out into the penumbra of the night.

A/N: I know… cliffhanger. But see, I really can't wait to get my hands on Vegeta-ouji. Coming soon…


	5. Touch

**Disclaimer:** As much as I want it, Vegeta isn't legally mine, but we both just sneak behind the owners and have fun.

**Author Note:** I really want to take this chance to thank every single person who's reviewed this story. I do take each word to heart and am more than honored to write for you. I suppose this could be considered a lemon (I just had to; they deserved to have some fun!), but it's really relevant to plot. In any case, you've been warned…

_Due to guidelines, this chapter has been edited. For the full uncensored version, visit my homepage, which is very simple at the moment (please look on my profile here). Or visit my profile on Mediaminer (pen name Caprice). Make sure to come back and leave any feedback. That way I know you're from the Fanfiction,net gang and I'll give you some candy…_

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**By Caprice**

Chapter 5

Step 6 - Touch

Chocolate dipped cookies that melt in your tongue. Silk charmeuse sliding smoothly against heated skin… musk and sweat intermingled in a single climactic second of bliss…

Decadent thoughts assaulted Bulma with a vengeance, speaking a sultry language of the flesh. She was a victim to the fecundity of her brain and the excitation of her body as they both clamored like thirsty children in need of instant gratification. She grappled to gain control of her mind, a force of nature that belonged to a girl with an IQ of over 200. Not an easy thing to do by far. It usually run at a million miles per hour, and it took both skill and temperance to govern it. Truth is such brainpower made her denizen to a world of the miscomprehended, a solitary place that only the lustful of life and passion inhabited.

Yes, that's what she was, a genius. Certified by Yale, Harvard and Princeton, daughter of a nobel prize winner.

And about to loose the battle with her wits.

Just were the hell was that lighter? She was sure she'd left it here somewhere around the thick cream colored candles that graced the cherry wood table sitting against the wall. They were still unlit, due to the lack of something to right that wrong with. It forced them to remain wrapped in the moonlit coziness of the living room, which was enough for her to look even though the search was being ineffective. His penetrating gaze on her back, as heated as beams of fire against her skin, made finding the damn thing a task of gargantuan proportions. She had been careful to set up the stage, accounting for all the minimal variables that could pose a problem and yet it seemed the gods were somehow playing tricks on her.

She cursed under her breath, suddenly aware of how the present predicament seemed right on track to maim and kill the event. Was she going to have to stomp back into the kitchen and find a box of matches? Talk about passion killing. It was a rustic replacement for her elegant lighter, picked for this singular event alone… it was long and ornate, chosen to make her hand look as ladylike as possible. That is if she could locate the stupid device. She had already lifted this particular candle at least ten times. Did it sprout little feet and take off? There, behind mamma's moth orchids… no, she had looked here already. There had to be a…

"Woman, why are you acting foolishly?"

The suffocation of her search made her patience snap. She whipped around and grumbled. "Believe me, you seriously wouldn't understand. It's not just a Chikyuu thing, it's a woman thing too." She knelt on the plush carpet, forgetting any pretenses of being a lady, oblivious to the fact that he had a very good view of her thighs and bottom as she resumed her quest.

He was leaning against the far wall, one leg across the other, arms in the same fashion against his chest. He rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible, consciously avoiding the instinctive need to slide his pupils in the direction of her petite little body, as it knelt flustered and on all fours.

"Is this some sort of prosaic earth ritual your backwards people partake in? If that's the case, spare me the tribal dancing and spirit beckoning."

Bulma ceased her efforts to glance back at him. She pushed the sudden surprise at his use of a word as cavalier as "prosaic" to the back of her mind (he had certainly been finely schooled as a member of royalty) and ignored her instinctive appreciation in lieu of a fitting comeback. His derisive tone had been enough to fire up her eyes.

She frowned, regarding him beneath strands of aquamarine hair that stuck to her face. "Just because we don't prance around the galaxy like pompous assholes subjecting innocent cultures in a primitive display of testosterone doesn't mean we are not refined. You said you wouldn't get in the way, remember? So if Saiya-jins much rather hump like gorillas, I am sorry to burst your bubble."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and gave her a sideways glance before issuing an arrogant 'hmph'.

_So like the very first time I spoke to him... _She felt a thrill at the sudden remembrance of that last day the sun shone on Namek after news of Frieza's fate was final. Had it been the skin tight armor or the venomous quips? She wasn't quite sure, but she was now ready to admit she'd wanted to ravish him right then and there and to hell with the spectators.

She shook her thoughts away at the more pressing urgency of finding that elusive piece of junk that refused to show itself. It had to be here, somewhere.

Well, Kami-sama, it was good while it lasted, a good zero minutes. She cringed internally at her own despaired words of defeat, but before she was able to follow that thought with more self-pity, the room just…. changed. Silence was interrupted by a spontaneous flaring up of the modest number of candles around it. She rose to her feet, eyes widened in unveiled amazement at the sudden combustion that made each flame look like a little torch. The fire was alive, flickering with grand intensity, in fact, perhaps a bit too much.

"Did you… do that?"

The corner of his lip lifted up in an almost imperceptible smirk. His arms were still crossed, but he'd been able to manage that simple trick with the immeasurable power of his Ki. "You should have said something ten minutes ago. Don't have all the time in the world, onna."

Well, to hell with that. She was going to take as much time as needed. He had to be tamed in the Chikyuu-jin arts of horizontal dancing and she didn't care if it took her one minute or a full year to do so.

She glanced around the room, taking in the wild, unnatural brightness that possessed each stick. "A little less Vegeta… bring it down a notch."

His brow creased at her command to soften the candlelight level, but after a couple of seconds of a knee jerk reaction to never comply with anyone's orders, he acquiesced.

Slowly but surely the flames narrowed to normalcy as he let them burn with their own natural intensity. She sighed in relief, already feeling her initial apprehension recede like a tidal wave. It left nothing but a breezy serenity, the special kind preceding a storm, mingled with a childish eagerness to finally be free to play with his body.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling bouts of desire extend and multiply throughout her limbs. He remained there, impassive, like the sculpture of some god of war ebbing dark magnetism through his every pore. She suddenly swallowed--had somehow forgotten to do so as she looked into his eyes. She could have stayed like that forever and not mind the seasons changing but she slowly reminded herself of the bigger picture. Taking her eyes off him unwillingly, she strode around the room to gather up a couple of big, soft silk cushions.

The room glowed very softly, shadows lining his figure as he fastened his eyes on her, unable to move a muscle. There was no sign of the inner battle he fought, as he wrestled with an awkward feeling of sudden trepidation. This frail creature was the only one to posses the unholy capacity of immobilizing his powerful 5 foot 3, and that thought alone was enough to threaten his very sanity.

…and what about that sickly slippery feeling toiling inside his stomach? It was never like this, not the first time he'd _done it_, not any single time afterwards. He'd always known exactly what to do, was born with it hardwired in his Saiyan blood. That knowledge had given him confidence, the kind he'd been sure would never waver. Yet today… well today was just one fucking travesty. It had been exceedingly easy to find that sort of physiological release in the past when he'd needed it. After all, he'd realized a universal truth in women's particular attraction towards uniforms, bad guys and well, royalty. At least that's what he attributed the wild response to his touch to. He just hadn't cared they'd liked it, considered it a nuisance for some reason. Instead, he'd always been focused on getting it over with as quickly as physically possible, in and out, almost literally.

Truth is he'd felt tainted, _dirty_, after joining with Frieza's sex slaves, as beautiful and skillful as they were. And the urge to keep it quiet, to be fast and discreet was always his priority. Radditz and Nappa didn't have to know about his very private affairs, the things that made him blood and flesh and ultimately perhaps even a bit weak. He'd often cursed it, that undeniable and sometimes all-consuming maleness he was made of. It was what had pushed him to seek _**it**_ out, a need so raw and powerful it would have driven him insane had he not. He'd blamed himself each time, before and after, but gods, he'd just really needed a good fuck every now and then. As simple as that.

And now this… he saw the warmth of the candlelight play with the smooth curves of her body as she strode across the rolling plush carpet to throw the cushions on the couch… this was inexplicable. Whatever this witch had given him to drink while he stayed here had the capacity of… she smiled, her face lighting up mesmerizingly, making him forget his train of thought. She glided very slowly towards him, like a sleek cat stalking an infinitely helpless creature. He'd be damned, a million times damned if she thought he'd be preyed on.

His face was slightly turned, as if unable to face her full on and he cursed himself again for that, not letting a single ounce of his complication show on his visage.

"Take off your jacket." He looked at her lips, full and curvy and looking as ripe as the gejaku berries he'd so loved when he'd been nothing but a six year old back in Vegita sei.

"Take it off…" She husked as she approached him, and his eyes turned to regard her straight on. They were suddenly brave, already beginning to dive into her deep blue seas.

"Or else I'll do it myself…" She teased, getting close enough to touch him. She grazed her finely boned fingers up the collar of the Capsule Corp. jacket she'd given him herself. She'd even dressed him, she'd fed him, kept him, and now she was going to… _Fool. Fool, Fool. What the hell was he doing?_

He didn't say a word making it that more difficult to read his expression. "Don't you want to feel me naked against your body…" She coaxed, almost breathing the words more than saying them.

When it became apparent she'd just have to take matters into her own hands, she gripped his collar, ready to pull it off. And all of a sudden, an insanely strong hand flew up to grab her wrist and hold it in place. Her eyes jumped up to meet his. Whatever he was thinking and feeling it must have been one hell of a maelstrom for his face had become nothing short of undecipherable. Sometimes she just cursed the complexity of his character. That multi-faceted black diamond sure was hard as hell to chink.

"I thought we had a deal, Prince Vegeta."

His expression softened minutely as he looked into her eyes, and his lips slip open but no words came out. She didn't really need any. It was a game, worthy of her mastermind, and the prize was too much to pass on.

"We had a deal… and you can't break it Oujisama, not a thing royalty would do." She jerked her wrist away, not in the least unnerved by his intransigency. She backed down a few steps, eyes never leaving his. So it was a battle until the very end? _Who gets to be vulnerable first, naked, skin exposed to the other…_ what a difficult man. Getting him to go down was exquisite, intricate, and full of subtleties.

She couldn't care less about pride today. Her skin was already tingly and he hadn't even touched her. He was already sliding into her very slowly, caressing her impudently with his smoldering dark eyes. God, what kind of aliens were the elites, completely able of almost doing you with their gaze alone. Or was it him, was it Vegeta?

Her heart thumped against her chest. The twisted fetish of how the terror of all four corners of the galaxy stood there, raking her with his eyes was enough to make her womb quiver. She slipped a strap off her satin shoulders, slowly… then a second one, pushing the delicate top down her chests, waist, hips, unto the floor. And she ran her fingers through her hair, big sensuous curls falling over ivory skin. Bulma had to suppress a sigh of utter satisfaction when she saw his eyes immediately dart towards the big round breasts that now stood perked, pointing in his direction.

She saw his throat move as he swallowed, and her smile widened. "If you're not going to touch me, I'll just start myself, if you don't mind." Her sultry voice twined around his body, the sudden energy permeating the room already turning her knees to jelly.

_Don't touch what's mine… _He wanted to say it, to yell it out loud, and yet he was speechless once again. Had she spun her magic and rendered him mute as well as frozen? Gods… what a hypnotic little bitch this lowly woman was. How intoxicating.

She licked her lower lip… grabbed the edge of the frilly lace that still covered her heated core and slid it down rounded hips as she swayed them sensuously. Fucking woman, did she have to pull it down so incredibly slowly? Make the torture last this long? It seemed like an eternity since he'd last seen a woman, and never one so, delicate? Short, delicate and supple, like a china doll.

_Visit my homepage or my mediaminer profile for the full chapter (pen name Caprice)._


	6. Wake Up

_**Disclaimer:**_ DBZ isn't legally mine. If you sue me Vegeta will Gallic gun you and look sexy while doing so.

_**Author note:**_ Please be warned there might be just a tad of lime? somewhere in this chapter. It's Vegeta and Bulma, what can I say…

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 6

Step 7 – Wake Up

"The issue is control."

There was a soothing quality to the affable tone in the older woman's voice as she spoke to the wide-eyed fifteen year old. Her words fell on the classroom like a warm blanket, succeeding in pulling everyone's attention together as if she had a supernatural ability to keep them quiet and unmoving by the means of her speech alone. Quite a feat for someone who looked as easy-going and harmless as every other regular high school science teacher.

It was a testament to her natural ability to command a class full of the children of stars and dignitaries, which undoubtedly equated egos and attitude. But they now sat nearly sedate, drawn into her conversation with one Bulma Briefs, a young woman as brazen as she was fascinating. Speaking to her always stirred the science junkie within Mrs. Pen, and her eyes sparkled, not just because she was the daughter of the renowned erudite, Dr. Trunks Briefs, but because she seemed to have inherited every bit as much brainpower.

"Are you sure you are ready to recreate a Podkletnov Force Beam? Imparting the high-voltage electrical discharge near the superconductors is quite an impossible task if you plan on going above 23↕10−4 Joules of mechanical energy."

The teen's round blue eyes flashed with excitement as she leaned closer. "I already tried it at home, employing a higher discharge by using a different frequency proton radiation. I was able to hit the pendulum behind brick walls of a separate building located 300 meters away."

Mrs. Pen's mouth sagged and she nearly lost the ability to muster a response. She then found her voice, a mere whisper of awe in the middle of the silence. "Light speed propulsion engineering…"

"Space travel." Bulma leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and smiling in self-satisfaction. "It obviously still needs to be properly applied to the actual schematics of a space craft, but the basic concept stands as proven under scientific experimentation."

There wasn't a single sound in the room for what seemed like an interminable gap of time. Even Hania, the slender blonde with the microscopic uniform skirts that constantly defied the rules of such a solemn institution as Tealton seemed hung on Bulma's mind-boggling words. And things remained so until Ryu's shrill mocking laughter pierced through the moment like a dagger.

"Bulma-chan keeps snooping around her father's lab and stealing his crazy research papers. She'll soon start ranting about how she'll be the first woman to travel across the galaxy and meet little green aliens, antennae and all." His cackle echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the booming laughter of the rest of her classmates. The sound was so loud and hysterical the Capsule Corporation heiress shot out of her seat, nearly tumbling it over in her haste.

"This is my own research you asshole! Not everyone's a stupid lazy git as you are."

"Bulma Briefs!" Mrs. Pen spoke with enough severity to cool her murderous thoughts at once. She had been about to launch herself at the snickering boy who had often bullied her with as much cruelty as his tyrant father employed in the Governor halls.

The general ridicule died down to a few giggles but Bulma still glared at the offender with blue glacier eyes, noting how he mouthed the word 'nerd' before turning around and hi-fiving his loyal entourage.

The strident sound of the bell barely registered, but she felt her feet move of their own volition, carrying her along the ample corridors of the ornate building. It was a highly prestigious and respectable private school, the most expensive in West Capital, set in the outskirts of town among the moss and vines that trailed up the brick walls. It was full of history and sobriety, supposed to be home to the best Chikyuu had to offer in terms of the leaders that were next in line to run the world.

And she'd never felt more bored and suffocated.

She did have a couple of friends who didn't let themselves be swayed by their good looks and money. They actually had brains and a sense of self that went beyond clothes and partying, but it was very little to compensate for having to deal with curricula that always fell short in her eyes. It surely wasn't enough to make her want to deal with walking the limbo of high school hierarchies either, not really fitting the nerd profile, not quite there with the bimbos.

And days went by, extinguishing her flame of life little by little as if the world had shriveled down to mindless sleepwalking. Nothing to look forward to, no joy or adventure, no going beyond the confines.

She stood on the stone pathway looking at Ryu's magnificent profile as he spoke to Hania and the rest. He had them wrapped around his finger, looming the threads that held them enraptured in his every word. Where did truth to his power lay? Was it the money? Was it the looks? The way his green eyes turned to emerald when they caught the light… or the way his hair fell over his forehead in an effort to play with his eyelashes? And his ruthlessness towards her, the fact he ignored her beauty like the mirror could not, where did that come from? Was being smart the ultimate curse to her existence? Was being empty between the ears, like Hania, the one key to life and love and…

"Bulma!"

"Mrs. Pen?" She ceased to ruminate, turning around to look at her teacher's big owlish expression.

The older woman run to catch up with her, heels echoing across the halls. "Bulma… thank God you didn't leave just yet. I just wanted to say…" She stopped before her, regaining her breath and looking at her through kind eyes. "…I wanted to say I believe your science experiment is nothing but formidable, and that I truly have faith in your ability to succeed."

Bulma's expression was unnervingly lackluster as she glanced about to see her classmates entertained in a game involving fireworks and wedgies.

Her teacher regarded her knowingly, feeling the sudden loss of the one girl who had been her favorite student to date. "You're not coming back are you?"

Bulma didn't answer, limited herself to issuing a sly smile. It at least offered a glimpse of the living breathing spirit that lay buried underneath.

"Just remember this… the issue is control… did you compensate for the voltage leak appropriately while doing the experiment? I know you like to push the limits. You've got more balls than my entire staff at the MIT lab, but be careful what you touch, may it not burn your hand in the process."

She placed one palm on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She then smiled once more, a wide, proud motherly smile before leaving her alone, standing in the frosty breeze of early winter.

Bulma cradled her hand, taking in the scar on her right hand. She lifted her face to the wind and felt the chill of the wind burn her cheeks.

--

_Present day_

The Japanese skylark warbled distantly. It sang the song of rice fields and grasslands were the sun shone warm and the breeze ran free. Its chirping grew more audible little by little, gently pushing away the shadowy nightmares of things past.

She crinkled her nose, moaning deep in her throat almost by inertia, so much she'd been doing so throughout the night. And she kissed the skin over which she lay. A reflex… the last thing she remembered doing before falling prey to slumber and the first thing her body could think of doing as it wakened.

Had she been dreaming of him again? She could almost feel his smooth velvety skin as she touched and pressed her lips to his chiseled abs. Could almost feel his soothing warmth enveloping her, as if she lay cradled between thickly muscled thighs. And his big… she smiled, sighing deeply, eyes still closed half asleep… his big manhood felt great pressed against the soft skin of her stomach.

What lively dreams had she gotten used to having lately… and why not indulge in the product of her wonderful imagination? Why not savor that deep golden skin with her tongue while the illusion lasted? She smiled against his navel, licking it in delight while her palm slid down a powerful torso that tapered down to a narrow waist. Licked a bit more, before his skin quivered in response.

Bulma's eyes flung open. She reared her head very slowly before gasping and rolling over hastily, legs tangled in a heap of silken sheets. She scrambled back over the slippery surface in a mild state of shock until she fell over the edge, hitting her bottom on the floor. It took her a good ten seconds before reason and memory shook hands again in her upturned mind.

She stared at him agape, only her wide blue eyes appearing behind the bed's horizon. There was a Saiyan in her bed, a very male, naked Saiyan. She clutched the covers to her own nudity, completely mesmerized by the view that lay before her in what was obviously the very real morning after the very real thing she had done last night.

There he was, fast asleep and spread in all his glory, half his body exposed except for a sheet that covered him from the top of his thighs down. It let the indentation between his abdominal muscles and hip bone show. Her eyes became half hooded as she let them roam freely, sliding her feverish pupils over the crevices of his stomach, his pectorals and onto the wide planes of his shoulders. His biceps moved below the tanned caramel of his smooth skin as he tucked an arm behind his head. The other one rested over his taut midsection. Every inch of him exuded raw virility, even in such a lax state and that realization made her tense in recognition. Her skin remembered his fingers…. his hands, she could feel him inside her still. The light bruises she now noticed all over her arms and legs and the tremendous soreness between her thighs were more than enough of a reminder of the power and vitality encased within the compact perfection of his form. And oh boy was she going to be walking like a cowboy for the rest of the day…

And what time was it anyway? What day? What month? And by Kami, how had they even made it to her bedroom? She sure as hell didn't remember that. It must have happened sometime towards the break of dawn. She felt as scatterbrained and disheveled as if she'd been swallowed and spit out into a different world. Her fingers touched around the surface of her bedside table until she managed to grab a hold of her Hello Pinkie clock. She refrained from squawking when she saw just how sinfully late in the afternoon it was. Truth of the matter was she didn't remember having slept so sound in what seemed like ages but it was only natural she had fallen nearly comatose after… after _that_.

Oh God… more and more incredibly fiery thoughts reclaimed her mind, making her cheeks burn. She found herself grinning like a schoolgirl, the lips that were reddened from having seen so much activity widening instinctively. Who cared if he lacked the most basic of social manners if he had that… stamina in bed? Insatiable… tireless, no… that didn't even begin to describe it. It was like melted butterscotch to hungry lips, like heated water to trembling skin. So big and wide and all-encompassing, the word pleasure held a new meaning.

In fact it was almost scary. A weird mixture of lust infused with fear began simmering in the base of her stomach. She could vaguely remember crying out in the middle of the night, asking for more until near the end she'd pleaded for him to stop… stop… stop, drenched in sweat, not because she didn't want him inside, but because she felt she could lose herself and never be found. She'd wanted to make him surrender to her. She'd wanted to make love to him, drink him in, kiss him and toss him under her dainty touch until he cried her name in ecstasy, not the other way around. How had she miscalculated the proportion of who he was? So overwhelming, so dominating and controlling, and Kami, that wasn't even the worse part.

The worse was she'd liked it.

Her entire face burnt as the full force of the night finally hit her. What the hell was that thunderstorm of a man made of? She'd naturally thought she'd be the one on top; it'd always been that way. Never had she lost control and surrendered to someone else, not even in the throes of passion. She'd always hung on firmly to a thread of composure and dignity. But last night… last night she'd lost herself, completely abandoned to what she was sure had to be the most excruciatingly long orgasms in the history of the universe. _Come on,_ _you can't blame yourself can you? It's a feat you even survived. Look at that man… Anyone else would be mewling like a possessed kitten in need of heavy petting right about now, but you're not, are you?_

She swallowed hard when the very real need to hop on the bed and rub herself against him assaulted her. Oh hell no. She was Bulmmm… she stumbled to her feet, nearly falling on her face as she stepped and tripped on the edge of the sheet.

Dammit. She braced herself on her French vanity, suddenly meeting her grimacing expression on the mirror. And she cringed. Her hair was all mussed and her face was flushed, the entire reflection screaming "ravished"… yelling "fucked". _And wanting more. _No… no, no, she needed a second to recompose herself, to gather some manner of a plan together, something perfect to get back at him somehow. This was supposed to be her little experiment, a controlled environment where every factor was accounted for. It wasn't supposed to signify the loss of her wits and pride under sex with such a dominating lover.

The soft sound of him exhaling, issuing a deep… deep guttural moan made her glance back at him in apprehension. Thank Kami he was still asleep, merely shifting in place. Shit, this was one of her recurrent nightmares, of any woman for that matter. The man you have a crush on, an increasingly annoying crush as it was, catching you when your hair isn't fixed, or your make-up in place. He couldn't look at her like this. He'd never seen her fresh from the bed just as she was now. And as if that weren't enough, she was a wreck, inside out.

She gathered the ample folds of the silk sheets as she tiptoed across the room, narrowing her eyes to take in the chaos her room had been left in. It looked like a tornado hat hit it, her luxurious Chinese lamp lying on the floor along with her perfumes, oils, combs, jewelry. She half remembered standing in the middle of the room sliding her back sensuously down his body as he squeezed her every mound. Twirling around, sighing against his lips before sucking on them hungrily. And him pushing her against the dressers, holding her bottom in his hands, raising her legs and…. Yes, that explained the mess.

She maneuvered her way around the objects as quietly as possible until she reached the door that led to the comfortable space of her very girly bathroom. There was nothing right now she needed more than a warm shower to ease her mind and cool her thoughts. She needed to regroup, like a General after losing a battle with herself, working strategy to regain control of the situation and win the damn war. She'd wanted this, God, she'd wanted it so badly. So why was she so confused right now? Why wasn't she celebrating her success? The answer was as clear as the light of day. Because it seemed like sleeping with him didn't serve to quench her thirst, but to only make it worse. Because she had been obsessed but was now perhaps on the verge of turning compulsive. And last night… she had gotten him where she'd wanted him, yet towards the end, she couldn't have been further away from being in charge. She pressed her forehead to the door, cursing under her breath for sleeping with the devil… for playing with fire.

She only needed time, a little time. Yes, she'd just somehow set the record straight; tilt the balance in her favor. Right all the wrongs in the perfect little world that was hers and only hers to command. A semblance of hope began to appease her jarred senses as she twisted the doorknob.

"Where are you going?"

Son of a… His voice was impossibly low, huskier than usual after having just woken up. She felt its rumble in her stomach and nearly trembled under the reckoning of how it'd felt to hear him growl in her ear all through the night.

Bulma turned around, leaning against the door, still holding onto the sheets that now draped down her body majestically.

"Good morning to you too…" She said bitingly.

He looked at her lazily, eyes half lidded and mane tussled. He slowly withdrew his arm from were it'd lay under his head and stretched his torso across the bed to peek at the time. She couldn't help but linger on the way he moved with feline grace to do something as mundane as checking her clock. He leaned back on the plush pillows to scrutinize her from head to toe as she stood there like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You didn't answer my question."

Bulma felt it, that rush of heat that shoots up and down your legs the moment desire kicks in. It rolled over her again, hitting her mercilessly inside her womb. She couldn't find herself, not when he was looking at her strewn over the bed like that. He was the image of sheer decadence, toned muscle warm from sleep and enveloped in silk. And she now knew what it felt like to melt unto him, the shades of hell and heaven the Prince could paint under the sheets.

"If you must know, I needed to use my own sink. Am I going to require a royal pass now?"

He quirked an eyebrow and smirked drowsily. "Chikyuu women are amusing."

She felt a vague sense of irritation at his taunt. It was both unsettling and thrilling how he looked at her like his little pleasure doll.

"I suppose that's a no. If you'll excuse me…"

"Insolent, even after last night. You're a rather peculiar female." He leaned forward, perching his arms over his silk covered knees. "Breaking and taming you seems like quite a challenge to undertake."

She had begun to turn the knob when she whirled around again fiercely, long blue tendrils brushing against her face.

"I am not your little mare to ride and try to "break" Vegeta."

He looked at her smugly, narrowing the eyes that were still hazy from such a deep night's sleep. The first one he'd had in… well, forever.

He slid off the bed, pulling the sheets with him to wrap them around his waist. "Of course you're not. Don't be so foolish."

She frowned deeply, rather dumbfounded at hearing him concede the point. "I am glad we agree on such a pertinent fact."

There was still something more than a bit disquieting about the way he carried himself. He was cool and composed and very ominous in his body language. He held one of her frilly curtains and peeked out into the front lawn, as if contemplating the panorama for the very first time since he arrived on her home. The faint sunlight of late afternoon glinted in his eyes, his every plane and angle accentuated by the glow of it. She found her weaker half lost in the alien prowess of his body. Why should she feel so distressed over having had such a mind-blowing night of perfect sex with the owner of her wet dreams? It's true he had tossed her like a rag doll and that she had enjoyed being controlled, but hadn't it been completely incredible? In fact, she could say he had enough in him to satiate more than one woman if he really wanted to, and last night his entire focus had been only her. Hadn't that been what she'd been craving for months now?

He turned his powerful gaze on her, an eyebrow twitching slightly. He slowly approached her, and she instinctively clutched the sheets tighter to her chest. Dangerous. It was all she could think of.

He braced a hand beside her head on the wall and inched in to sniff the hollow of her neck profoundly, nuzzling her hair in the process.

"What…" Her eyes widened in confusion as he changed sides, then lowering his head to take in the scent all over her neck and shoulders.

"Vegeta… what on earth are you doing?" She whispered a tone of alarm to her voice. "That wouldn't be considered good manners in Chikyuu you know?"

"Hn" He sniffled her hair a bit more before looking into her eyes, noses nearly touching. "And that is relevant how?"

She brushed her lips against his, feeling the wild flowers of sheer lust bloom inside her fully. "Just know you can't just barge in and do as you wish, my _"Lord Prince"._ I won't let you."

"Wrong answer." He whispered against her lips.

"I already told you, I am not the slave you've regarded me as all this time… what the hell's so funny now?"

The sound of his chuckle was a lot more unsettling than a mordant word would have been. He inhaled her scent fully once more. "I already told you little girl. You're damn right you're no longer a simple slave to my eyes. You've been marked."

She wrinkled her brow, staring at him with an expression of sheer confusion. "Marked?"

"We coupled last night."

Of course they had. She could feel the consequences right between the legs. "I think I was there Vegeta."

"More times than once, many more. Saiya-jin seed imprints its scent very deeply within a woman and that, you should know, is called marking. It normally happens when a male takes possession of a female and makes her his steady bed mate. After shedding his essence inside repeatedly over a short period of time his scent will become so heavy it'd be years before it finally leaves her. It will remain for a very long time, even after letting her go. It's only natural the mark of an elite is even more powerful than that of others. Lower class warriors don't mind taking scented women and were sometimes known to take the spoils of nobility, females who were no longer concubines. But royalty, high class rank men… they take only women who have never been marked or have already lost the scent."

She parted her lips, eyelids fluttering as if trying to make sense of the riddle that composed Saiyan mating rituals.

"What the hell does that all mean?"

"You're a royal concubine now." He stated it as if it were a rather pleasant tid bit of information worthy of being announced on the morning news.

"A what?"

"A…"

"I heard you." Her eyes were as wide open as possible, looking straight into his charcoal ones. Seconds ticked by, as Bulma's jumbled thoughts strived to rearrange themselves in some manner of an order. He didn't move a single inch, leaning his hand on the wall, looking every bit the cocky bastard he was.

"For fuck's sake woman, what's with you? Didn't you hear what I just said? Do you know who I am?"

Did he think she was some little toy poodle he could lift a leg over and … and… _mark_? "Damn well I know who you are." She stated in a quiet little whisper. "You are an arrogant, conceited, self-serving bastard…" _And you can go all night long and not tire a bit._ She shook her head. That wasn't supposed to sneak into her otherwise perfectly timed retorts. "…and you are very much wrong to believe I am yours to mark." She poked her finger on his chest angrily.

He rolled his eyes, completely exasperated with her lack of insight. The corner of his mouth lifted to show a glimpse of an ivory incisor. "Wrong answer again woman. Not only am I a crown Prince and as such carry a title and royal blood from a race superior to yours. I posses power and reputation across the galaxy that is practically unequaled. No one's stronger than me at the moment in all quadrants, except for that bumbling fool you call a friend, and that won't even last long. No one touches what's mine and be sure of this… planets would fear you just by dropping my name. I personally blasted Frieza's main minions and most loyal factions to the next dimension and delivered the news to every legion I used to command. Hosts would come crawling and trembling at my feet if I were to issue an order…"

He lowered his voice an octave, drilling her eyes with his own. "Chikyuu should feel more than honoured to have me walk its surface and use it as a temporary retreat. It should count itself lucky it's the home planet of my female, for I now may consider sparing its fate once my dealings here are wrapped. My training should progress according to plan, allowing me to attain golden hair for once and for all. Once that's done, I _will_ pull the empire back together under the Saiyan coat of arms."

She couldn't believe her ears. Genuinely couldn't, for all the truth of his inflated words, there was one that remained fixed on her mind. Marked. "Do you have the least idea who I am? I am practically royalty myself as far as Chikyuu is concerned. I can't… I am not anyone's concubine!" She stomped her foot, arms tensed in frustration.

He flexed the arm that was braced against the wall to lean closer and purr into her face. "Woman, what the hell is the matter with you. Your performance was not objectionable. In fact you would have been a fucking hit as a sex slave back under Frieza's dominion. You speak of being royalty when I know… and I know this very well… that you're nothing but a slut."

Bulma's eyes bulged and her cheeks flared. She couldn't even respond, just look at him as her jaw clenched and unclenched. She smelled of him, of his masculinity, it was so powerful she could feel it herself, God knew how much _he_ felt it. She had liked his ruthless passion and how it never waned throughout the night too. Even now she couldn't help but think about how she still hadn't sucked him. It was all she could do to refrain herself from dropping down to her knees and going down on him right that very second.

"You are very wrong Vegeta." She said with a voice so feeble she cringed at the sound of it.

He snorted, pulling back to hold the silk firmly around his waist with both hands. "Should I remind you about last night and just how many times you demanded I made you mine?"

This was exactly one of the things she'd feared. He was smart and cruel and he'd humiliate her the first time he got.

"That means something totally different in Chikyuu than in your macho warrior culture. Yours for a night… yours as a figure of speech, not… not literally. I am not yours to use and dispose of whenever you wish so." She'd certainly never intended to be owned so completely, in body and in mind. Kami-sama, if he thought she would lay down at his feet and kiss them then he'd be damned.

"Have you forgotten our little deal?"

She gritted her teeth and snarled. _Regroup Bulma, dammit._ "No I haven't. I agreed to pleasuring you in exchange for the knowledge that you'd leave me and my people unharmed." She clasped the sheets to her body more fiercely, pulling her most menacing look, the one that had gained her the title of queen bitch in the lab. "But I am certainly not your property, and I refuse to be what you claim me to be." She pouted angrily.

He raised his chin slightly, looking at her down his regal nose. He seemed genuinely confused as to why any single female would refuse the wealth and grandeur that could accompany being his only consort. And in truth, who the hell would. Well, the pride of a Briefs was really something. That's all she could say to that.

"As you wish." He shrugged disinterestedly. "But know this, you're marked now. I _will_ take your body be it as a rightful willing concubine with the privileges that may entail or as a simple pleasure slave. You choose. I'll have no obligation to you as the latter, nor to this land you call home. And if you crawl unto my bed as anything less than last night, I will assure you woman, your Chikyuu will more than likely perish. You will fulfill your part of the deal if you'd rather spare your people the suffering."

His little woman was a complete rarity, planted there like an exotic jewel. He found it quite amusing indeed how she threw her tantrums as if she truly believed she had the upper hand in their private universe of two. Whatever her choice, he'd still enjoy bedding her day in day out, seeing just how long she'd go before he'd manage to break her into total submission. She'd be quite an amazing love consort if she'd just stop driving herself crazy with impracticalities. And even if she wound up being unbreakable, her spunk would prove more than satisfying as he attempted to tame her every night.

"It's not that simple Vegeta. Don't you see I truly don't want you anymore?" She approached him determinately, stopping only a whisper away from his face.

"Oh is that so." He let go of the sheet that had remained covering his nudity and grabbed her knuckles, forcing them apart so she'd bare her own body.

The peaks of her breasts hardened instantly, as if crying out to be claimed by his teeth and his lips. He leaned forward, closing his eyes ever so slowly and parting his mouth against hers. Her lips were still as ripe as pomegranates from the fierce kisses that had sated her thirst until the break of dawn.

He was very close, his warm breath already making her mouth water. "No… I won't…" Her whisper was barely audible, but he picked it up instantaneously. He pulled back, his handsome features drawn into a scowl.

He'd never though she was this weak, this lacking in courage. A brief expression of disgust darkened his face, one she didn't see for her eyes were closed, her lips still pursed on the verge of a kiss.

"No… I won't be a simple bed slave. I want it all." She whispered. It was clear that she'd made up her mind, taking the only viable and intelligent option she had. She'd been up, she'd been down, and struggling to come to terms with last night but she could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. She would have it all, his body and his pride… somehow. She'd rise to the occasion, confront her fears, wage a battle in bed and never waver. Her spirit swelled beautifully under the thrill of the challenge, making her chest heave in anticipation.

His expression transformed under her words, a snide smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips. "Somehow little one, I didn't think you'll settle for less than that." His words were half a moan as he nipped and sucked on her mouth.

No she wouldn't. He was right. She'd be the perfect contender, in mind and body, never backing down be it the last thing she did.

She circled his neck with her arms, thoughts slowly giving way under the sensation of his feverish body against hers, both no longer concerned with covering their bodies. She began pressing herself against his muscles, already desperate to sate the half-insane need to posses him.

"Mm… not now… we can't do it again just yet." He managed to sneak in the words between his own frantic kissing as he drank from her lips passionately.

"Why not…" She urged him, grinding her hips against him.

He tore the kiss to look at her with eyes half hazed by lust. "You're still sore woman, you must be after last night, and you should know I don't wreck what's mine."

He disentangled his lips from hers and pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger gently. He then tilted her head slightly. There were a few bruises over her neck and arms, perhaps some more elsewhere upon closer inspection. Bulma eyed him curiously as his gaze slid up and down her body in complete concentration.

"I was unable to control my power completely." He said sternly almost to himself, as a brief look of distaste flitted over his visage.

"I don't care about that… I will be ok." She coaxed temptingly "Considering you are capable of blowing entire planets to dust, I think you did quite well, so wasn't I right in what I said. You didn't kill me and doing it again certainly won't either." She purred, clinging to his neck as she kissed him below the earlobe. God, the sick, twisted need to make love and get her new '_master_' to howl in pleasure was nearly driving her insane. This dangerous games she played, so crooked and irrational were going to be the end of her. "Vegeta…" Her moan succeeded in making his breath get caught up in his throat.

"Insatiable little bitch." He breathed unto her neck. "I'll shower you too cool your head off. It's in your own benefit."

She smiled into his shoulder when she felt him shudder against her body. Her tongue wanted to play, to lick the light sheen of masculine sweat off his skin. "That may prove even more dangerous_._" She said biting his skin, kindling his fire until she felt his manhood harden once more.

If he wanted to wait, she could do so too. He might be right in that it was best that way anyway. She could feel the burning sensation of wild sex still stinging her intimate flesh. However, that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun with his majesty in the meantime, and for all he knew about women and about her body at this point, a girl from Chikyuu could still tease like no other. She'd teach him a thing or two as part of his "ki" training, things that went beyond the classic "ins and outs" of what they had already done.

And so she dragged him unto the shower, butterflies flapping inside her stomach in anticipation. She was almost certain he was the kind of male that would have never done something like showering with a casual fuck. He was probably used to ultimate ruthlessness in his treatment of his one night stands. Going that further must have seemed like a proper outrage.

His hesitation before entering the confines of her bathroom had been nothing but gasoline to her fire, his sudden uncertainty on just what to do in such a situation the ultimate aphrodisiac. There was no denying he was a quick learner… He had started by standing there on the shower, hands braced against the sleek tiles of the wall, his back to her as he let the warm water slide deliciously down his every nook and crevice. It had been enough to make her lick her lips and approach him from behind, sliding her hands around his narrow waist to smoothen them down his abs. Her man was nothing but perfection, enough to make her knees quiver.

The need for her had driven him to close his eyes, throwing his head back as they stood surrounded by the steam that filled the tight space. He had been prey to the feeling of her palms as they washed him. She rubbed them over his belly, fingers playing with his navel.

And her hands had wandered lower, grabbing his hardness and making him breath harshly through the nose in the process. There was no one around to hear the echoes of what happened next when he turned around and opened his legs wide, no one to witness her sinfulness as she knelt down to pleasure him under the gentle flow of the water.

She let a twisted feeling of satisfaction roll over her freely as he grabbed the hair behind her head in a firm grip while she made love to everything between his thighs. Who said there wasn't anything more other than what they'd already done? Who said tongues, and hands couldn't have every bit as much fun. He tugged on her hair, pulling her up when she was done drinking him up and satisfying her thirst. He kissed her, as the rivers of warmth poured down their faces and mingled with their tongues.

She didn't question why she was so content with nothing more than having serviced him. She didn't berate herself for having felt good as she knelt, for having enjoyed it when he'd pushed and pulled her head unto his hardened flesh at the rate he wanted. Her mind was now clear enough to understand a simple truth… you can't really own something without being owned in return. Had he gotten a glimpse of that while she swallowed him? Had he cursed himself as he rolled his eyes in sheer pleasure?

Now as they kissed, he slid his hands up over the small of her back until he cupped the back of her head, cradling it in his palms. Bulma was it? His Chikyuu woman… she tested his control and raised him to heights he'd never known before. His tongue tangled with hers, under the drizzle of the showerhead in the middle of her lace trimmed bathroom. The war lord, the grisly beast toying with this little slut, tasting her creamy skin and her plump lips. He was going to taint her, trample her girly world and make her his so utterly and completely she'd forget her name yet again. He was going to raise her to heaven and bang her there as the angels witnessed. And the air would leave her lungs with every thrust once he was able to have her again.

After all, his Ki needed to be trained didn't it? …And training was one thing he took seriously.

--

Earth lay below the hiss of the wind and the fluff of the clouds, alive and well under the scrutiny of the temple of God. His robe fluttered to the wind, his solemn eyes peaceful as he walked the rim of the marbled tiles with the pace of old age. A gentle gaze, bursting with faithfulness caressed the curvature of Chikyuu and he resisted the urge to grace the skies with glittering rainbows, his personal gift to the good children and the needy of joy.

Such pleasant thoughts were instantly disrupted the minute she appeared, once again the sound of her fortune-telling orb announcing her arrival.

The minute he felt her halt at his side he smiled to himself, still not looking in her direction. She stood there, regarding the land and requiting his silence.

After a while, he spoke. "Good job with the lighter. I didn't expect anything less from you."

"Hm. I thought it would make for perfectly innocent meddling. It did create some tension that spiced up the night, at least up to the point we were able to watch. You know the other world isn't safe from censorship."

He chuckled softly. "She didn't back down the morning after Baba, nor did he. He didn't kill her."

"Yet." She was quick to add. "Don't count yourself a winner so quickly. There is too much money at stake here and loads more of pride. We're a long time away from the Androids even arriving on earth anyway and you know no one is like Bulma and Vegeta. Face the truth, Kami. It can't be. It's a physical impossibility for hell and heaven to exist together in the same space. Nothing… nothing will keep them together." She said it without a single inch of malice, but as part of the wisdom only years bring forth.

"That may be so, but there's always an exception that proves the rule."

"Not this time." She interjected, smiling for the first time. She began to leave, slowly turning her back on him.

Kami-sama whirled around, stopping her on her tracks with one last fretful comment from his lips. "You can't try and tear them apart. You could endanger the existence of that boy from the future."

She turned her face slightly, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Nothing will happen that shouldn't happen-- that didn't already happen at least until he is born. The boy is safe."

"This time no one will die in battle, this time they won't have to part. With that out of the way they have a chance of staying together unlike the future. Nothing else will come between them." His voice was a veiled question, issued as subtly as possible. Reality was he wasn't capable of telling what would happen next even through his spiritual power. The arrival of that youth may have even thwarted the timeline more than they suspected.

Her smile widened and she turned to look away from him. "We'll see about that."

"What are you planning Baba? I hope you and Enma-daioh refrain from pulling a dirty trick." He looked at her with a slight frown, holding unto his staff as if half-dreading her answer.

Her voice sounded both malevolent and mischievous as she spoke. "Don't worry now. We're really hoping it won't come to… that."

She issued a short cackle before disappearing behind a curtain of sun rays, mist and clouds.

A/N: Comments and questions, or Vegeta pictures… always welcome. Ch. 7… what does it feel like to be in a relationship of sorts with such an extraordinary man?


	7. Make it Physical

**Disclaimer:** DBZ belongs to its rightful owners but I just need to fill in the blanks of my evil prince's dark desires.

**AN:** The Saiyaman costume, the Z-fighters' armor, the "Bad Man" shirt. I think there's an entire facet of Bulma still left to explore.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 7

Step 8 – Make it Physical

_Remember the tempestuous feeling you get…_

The languor of life before Namek seemed centuries distant in the midst of today's clarity, today's pristine brightness. And that old urgency and need, that sexual frustration of legendary proportions that came after that first day they spoke to each other when materializing on Chikyuu had now morphed into something ineffable. Those old feelings had been nearly erased after ten days and nights that couldn't be tagged or explained. She didn't want to define them, didn't have the time or the will to do so. She had become a tachyon travelling in the tracks of his passion. _And what about hers…_ _what about her own unbridled desire?_

Bulma rested her chin on the palm of her hand and glided her pencil along the smooth pages of her sketchbook. There was a certain relaxed expression about her face, an odd glint in her eyes as if lost in reverie. It was her and her musings, a mind that concerned itself with nothing other than indulging in her secretive thoughts. Toying with the memories of the last few days was impossible without almost reliving them.

She wasn't aware of what the pencil's graphite sprung in its endeavor as was often the case when she lost herself to that kind of thing. She was only conscious that it seemed too long since she'd last seen him (3 full hours) and, as such, was already beginning to feel the withdrawal.

_Kami, what was she, sixteen_? It was indeed the very first day back at the Capsule Corporation downtown offices after hours and hours of… a smile pulled at the corner of her lips, a peculiar gesture she'd developed after endless moments of intense daydreaming.

Long eyelashes hung low as she recalled how it felt waking up to the feeling of him inside her, her legs entwined with his. It was the substitute for a lack of an embrace or the gentle cuddling lovers usually lend themselves too.

_Not him_. Being with him involved pumping until he was sated and she was done mewling. It entailed him finishing and holding her still with strong hands for a few seconds before dropping down panting and then… then simply turning over to his side.

He lay there eying the ceiling with his usual proud countenance, his skin damp and his heartbeat still thundering. She had often noticed him lost in rumination, riding the last waves of a climax with an undecipherable look. That was if his eyes were open. If not it was nearly impossible to asses whether he was asleep or awake. She'd sometimes relieved the silence and soothed her jumbled up nerves by popping her very own brand of cigarettes from the little drawer on her nightstand. The man had gotten her back on smoking and at this rate she was going to turn her poor lungs to cinders. But it felt good… when she inhaled the soft minty smoke with slightly trembling fingers while still high on the scent of their sex.

He was too smart, and she'd suffered the consequences of it and of her own perversion. Why anyone would avidly embark on the task of showing someone like him what to do with his tongue and his fingers was beyond her. She was actually beginning to think she might have a very masochistic side that was a perfect match to his sadistic demons. He'd play with her like a boy who never had the chance to experience Christmas and its joys, fingering and prodding her like a new toy. In fact, sometimes he sniffed her all over, licking and exploring with such eagerness his eyes danced a little.

She could still remember the moment he'd discovered the one thing that had intrigued him most: her little pleasure nub down there. He had asked her several questions… what was it, since when she'd had it, what she felt when she touched it… The interrogation was something to be expected from someone as keen and sharp as Vegeta. He had really taken his time to explore that one, hands on, entranced on the possibility of having found her ultimate weak spot. He'd squeezed it firmly between strong fingers and watched her gasp and shudder all the while bearing a lazy smirk on his face. _The bastard._ It was only good she'd gotten the tables reversed. The moment she could, she raked her teeth softly along the sensitive tip of his hardness and made him lose his much prized control. The proof of it had winded all over her face alright… but his startled look had been priceless.

Up until now they had concerned themselves with little more than bed wrestling. In fact she was more than happy for the privileges of her wealthy life, where she could take a break from rolling around in the sheets to order food on the intercom while still trying to catch her breath. It was good the bots had no way of reading between the lines or figuring anything out. When they whirred into the room with their chromic composure and hoards of food in trays, he ate, and ate… and ate some more and then… well, if she slipped away he'd look her up and pound her again mercilessly.

Nights turned into a blurry haze of waking up and falling asleep together and waking up again. He used her in the middle of the night, extending a strong hand to pull her to him for a quickie. No amount of complaining or moaning was enough to stop the rhythm of his testosterone. She'd curse him, usually while devouring his lips or climbing the peaks of a soul-stopping climax. She'd curse him for feeling so good.

He'd then fall asleep after grunting in her ear, leaving her feeling like a well used rag. Nights melted into mornings and days into darkness without her giving thought to her parents (which were still not back from their impromptu camping trip), her responsibilities, or the possibility of death at the hands of some sort of walking-talking tin cans. How could she possibly find solace to think about that sort of thing when after dropping herself on the bathtub in utter exhaustion he'd snatch her away? That particular occasion was the first time he'd gotten her out again for penetration. Next thing she knew her wet skin was almost sizzling against the supernatural heat of his smooth hard body.

Another smile and she finally quirked an eyebrow to analyze the ivory sheet she'd been doodling on. And then she realized… it was another one of those sketches that happened almost by accident. They appeared while twirling around in the half manic daze of lust. His, lips, his hair, his eyes, his body, in different positions, across the page with the fine whispery strokes of an artiste used to repeating the same theme over and over again. She'd done it in the past, with nameless, faceless individuals she took to drawing as a hobby. Pages worth of them, as if she'd been seeking something she couldn't quite fathom. But now this… man, it had his identity, the other worldly features she couldn't have conceived otherwise.

The first pages of him where drawn in armor, fierce and violent as she remembered him. They were the product of those first months he'd sat immobile in the depths of Capsule Corp.'s jungle like sanctuary after Frieza's death. He had preferred lounging about surrounded by the frightened pets that hid in the bushes from the predator that had invaded their territory. She had divided her time between playing hostess to a pack of Namekians and entertaining stray little thoughts of him in the intimacy of her room. _And her boyfriend had been dead…_

She frowned a bit, rustling the thick pages to find the infamous "bad man" one, dated to the hiatus between his sudden departure and subsequent return. She'd sketched it the very same day he left, in the wake of some nameless emotion that took her entirely by surprise. He had taken off with not so much as a goodbye, nothing… nothing left of him. She'd nearly broken the tip of her pink colored pencil on that one, pinched her fingers with the needles as she balanced the Fashion Configurer (state of the art CC technology). But every bit of her blood and sacrifice had been more than worth it. When he came back it had been waiting for him, neatly folded in her panty drawer.

The drawings that followed had evolved into a considerable amount of detail. They showed facets of him she'd often catch when they were still nothing but an alien guest and a benevolent heiress. The pages showed him in his training shorts and in the Chikyuu clothes she'd slip into his room surreptitiously. He had no way of knowing she'd actually made them herself after having first put them on paper. It had been hard hiding her glee at the sight of the man she wanted, walking about in clothes that not only suited him perfectly but were her own creation too.

And the newer sketches… she could only blush and twitch her lips as she smudged the soft tracings with her fingertip. They depicted the contours of his body and portrayed him with his eyes shut as he lay asleep naked. The art resembled the original faithfully, up to the flame-like hair and finely carved lips. These new ones where nothing short of…

"…Wouldn't you say, Miss Briefs?"

The chair of the meeting sliced through her thoughts as clean as a knife through butter. She raised her pupils to meet the eyes of the other members of the board and blinked when she saw them staring at her intently. The motley ensemble of business suits and cravats succeeded in dissipating her drowsy thoughts and replacing them with a certain dull weariness.

"Yes." She said after slamming her sketchbook shut and clearing her throat.

A long, dry woman many years her senior straightened herself in her plush executive seat to address her with poorly veiled condescension. "Yes what, Miss Briefs? We were saying we believe the final decision on whether to enter a partnership with Viored Corp. or not should be made by a Briefs, be it you or your father. The pros and cons of the decision to capsulate their weapons as opposed to entering into a nasty acquisition have been placed over the table here. I personally believe this would be a subtle step that will assure a much smoother takeover in the long term. The firearms production side of our company has certainly been our weakest link, but I think we all agree that by entering this venture we would revert the situation."

Bulma blinked a few times, scanning their stern faces. It didn't take much to notice they had obviously already made up their minds while she was numbed thinking about her alien lover. An acrid remark danced on the tip of her tongue at the patronizing tone on the woman's voice, one she had grown accustomed to hearing during these long, insipid meetings. She knew the ceremonial words, the parliamentary procedure and honorifics were nothing but shrewd hypocrisy, and she supposed she couldn't blame them. She was after all, and had always been the oddball daughter of the most celebrated inventor the world had seen, suffering from the child-in-the-shadow-of a-prominent-parent syndrome. It didn't matter the intelligence she possessed or the number of titles on her extensive resume. She knew the negative or trivial was more appealing to their jealousy. The tabloid pictures of her naked on her pool, the snapshots of her and Yamcha making out somewhere public and the odd rumors of her trysts with other martial artists hadn't helped either. They were terrible additions to a reputation that had been damaged since the very day she had dropped out of high school to live "a life of a rebel", as a headline so colorfully put it. Low cut jeans, very short skirts and scandalous cleavages had come as a bonus.

"The reason why that particular part of the business never thrived was because my father never took too keenly to it. He is a gentle pacifist, not a greedy hound half the people here are." She could see them shift in discomfort at her words. Some of these same old bloodsuckers that looked at her with disdain and rumored behind her back were the ones she caught sneaking a peak at her chest every now and then. They were visibly terrified of her declining their proposal and losing another big deposit at their Caiman Island's account.

She knew her parents weren't even aware of how much money Capsule Corp. was really worth. The title her father still carried as CEO was more a something ala Queen of England than anything else at this point. She now bore most of that responsibility and thus was the only one aware of the epic dimensions of the consortium. Sadly enough, there simply was no way around the lack of relatives, a fact that laid the job square on her shoulders. She would have changed this room for a laboratory in a heartbeat. Yet she had no choice…

Bulma heaved a deep sigh. "Yes do it. Sign the partnership."

Some actually slumped in the chair, obviously relieved at her words. They would now be obscenely rich as opposed to just… rich. And she couldn't care less. She was past the point of telling the difference between a billion and trillion zeni as was the case with her parents. True pleasure was somewhere else, in a very different place that was beyond what was earthly fathomable. True pleasure…

That jolted her out of her muddled thoughts.

"Now if you'll excuse me…" She swiveled the chair to get up and gather her notes, which coincidentally had nothing to do with the matters they'd discussed in the first place.

They all rose from their seats, nodded and immediately resumed a lively conversation that was engorged with all sorts of business hoopla. Thank God she was out of there.

Her silk trench coat fluttered as she hastened her steps down the ample marble corridors of the luxurious umpteenth floor (she had even lost count of just how many floors high the enormous building was) as her heart throbbed in anticipation. It was a labyrinthine complex of steel and glass, filled with an aura of opulence. She nearly went dizzy. She needed him, right here, right now, like a drug that makes everything better if only for a few minutes of pure bliss.

"Miss Briefs!"

"Oh for the love of Kami, can't it wait Cherry?" Bulma groaned and glared at her assistant. It would have been enough to make anyone turn on her heel, but the woman was more than used to her difficult temper.

She had emerged from one of the countless rooms that lined the hall; face nearly lost behind a pile of papers. She skirted around the melee of staff and visitors until she reached the highly tense figure of her boss. "Miss Briefs… Thank God, I am very glad you haven't left. I thought I'd have to wait another ten days before I got to see you again! This is everything pending for you to sign." She moved the papers up and down. "As you can see it is days worth of stuff for you to browse through."

No shit. She was about to give her a piece of her mind but her reason kicked in. It really wasn't Cherry's fault, was it? And at this point she had better ways of venting her frustration anyway. "Alright already… give me a pen."

The resourceful girl popped a silver one from the pocket of her uniform and Bulma snatched it, not paying attention to the enormous blocks of text as she signed along the dotted lines perfunctorily.

The girl jabbered on, unfazed by Bulma's complete lack of interest in the business babble related to deals, office gossip and other rather mind-numbing information. Halfway through her chatter and a few nods and "ahums", something happened. A door opened to her left and Bulma's eyes wandered to the bustle inside. Bright colors, drapes and chandeliers in the middle of a room that existed in total dissonance with the rest of the building.

The girls inside walked about smiling, almost in slow motion as if the world spun to a different tune.

She felt her legs carry her of their own accord, slowly moving towards the mesmerizing space. She didn't hear Cherry nagging repeatedly to tell her what she was doing. In fact she ignored her altogether in lieu of the fun, ornamented expanse of the Capsule Corporation Division of Fashion and Merchandising. It was the wondrous machine responsible for clothing lines that included, sporty, casual and even a certain haute couture line called CeeCee. It sliced through every demographic, ubiquitous enough to be worn by children, tweens and adults of all strata. As if that weren't enough, the division expanded its velvety tentacles unto shoes, jewelry, accessories, and all sorts of promotional items.

There was a collective gasp as the girls pulled their attention from the huge electronic tablets used for sketching and preliminary creative artwork and directed it towards the mistress of the empire.

"Miss Briefs…" They all stood from their chairs and desks, some peering from behind hordes of shiny lamé fabric. Lady Masuki, the head of the division, stood tall and proud, surrounded by a group of girls that buzzed around her like bees around their queen. She stopped her browsing of a catalog and turn to regard Bulma with genuine surprise.

"Bulma" Her smooth, deep tone did little to grasp her attention as she walked towards a long blue green dress that was the color of sea foam in the warm waters of the Caribbean. The younger woman smiled, grabbing the diaphanous fabric between her fingertips. "diamond encrusting…"

Masuki's eyebrows twitched as she tried to decipher her words. In her eyes she was still the girl she'd seen run around he halls of this very same floor irreverently.

Bulma spoke again, a bit of hesitation in her tone. "Have you tried it with diamond encrusting instead of sequins."

Masuki smiled fondly. "Child, you have an eye for such things." The familiarity in their rapport was a rather personal thing, something developed through years of Bulma following her around when she was still tiny waving about drawings of things that looked like potatoes with feet.

Bulma once thought about mixing science with the creative; the two halves of her brain were more than capable of handling the task, but Capsule Corporation… she had to watch over it, she couldn't just enjoy it.

"Masuki… can't believe you're still concerning yourself with this crap, running it and all…"

"You know what they say. Old habits die hard." The slender woman replied amiably.

Bulma chuckled and then frowned, a rare composition that only she pulled off effectively. "A mere suggestion Maki. Sequins might be better after all." She backed down, nearly stepping on Cherry's toes in her haste. The short girl shrieked, trying to keep the tower of papers she was balancing from blowing down to the carpet.

Masuki smiled once more before waving the girls into resuming their tasks. "A suggestion no one else had the insight to make and I say it is a perfectly good one too. Perhaps you should come over and visit more often. In fact there are a few things I'd love to discuss with you over a cup of coffee sometime soon."

Bulma stopped in her tracks to exchange a brief nod with the older woman, a tacit sense of understanding filling the space between them. It was all she could do before exiting the room and leaving behind the rich atmosphere that was so arousing to the senses.

Cherry took the departure as a cue to continue with her machine gun style monologue. "I know you are leaving the tower in a few moments, but please… " She grimaced "…remember the celebratory cocktail to welcome Viored Corp. is on for the 14th."

At that Bulma started, turning around to glare at the other woman with glacier blue eyes. "Wait a minute. How did you know that? That wasn't formally approved by the board of directors until a few minutes ago."

"Oh" Cherry seemed rather nervous at the prospect of having screwed up. Bulma's relentless gaze plied her mouth open and her assistant smattered on. "Well uh… Miss Briefs there has been talk about it since before you came back. It seems to me they had already made the arrangements before any meeting was held. In fact" She pulled a white metallic card with the CC monogram from a pocket in her vest "The invitations were already sent."

Bulma gritted her teeth before developing a rueful expression. "I want them out, every single member of the board, and bump the next batch up." She had lost count of just how many times it had happened, changing and replacing scum with scum. They had all gotten high through the backstabbing game of the corporate ladder and shared no true respect or sympathy for a young woman with her face and her body. She knew they sneered at her inability to comprehend the smarmy drivel of their kind.

Her assistant cringed, muttered an "excuse me", and bowed briefly before scurrying back through the ample hallway. She could have cursed and complained openly, could've sunk into a bitter stupor, but the event was a trifling matter in comparison to this burning need she felt thrumming through her veins. _Him… God, she craved him._

She patted her hair, which was done in a slightly messy bun and rushed in the direction of one of the labs that were adjacent to her personal suites. She glanced both ways down the hall before swiping the keycard through a slot and sliding the door open. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she pressed her back to it with abounding relief. It was over, the lackadaisical rituals of her life as a girl that presided over a corporate monster. At least for now.

The intermittent beeping of medical machines lured her attention to the middle of the room. He was there, completely unconscious lying on the med table in nothing but skin tight training shorts. He was hooked to monitors that took steady readings of his sleep patterns, ki levels, blood, and bone and muscle index among others. Her father performed this kind of testing regularly. Not only did he consider Vegeta a peculiar study worth the effort, but the highly experimental training he was undergoing required some type of consistent monitoring. It was in both his and Vegeta's best interest.

She strode towards the table, enjoying the rare sight of his slender body in such state of relaxation. She had sometimes fallen asleep watching him as he slept in the bed they now shared through post-coital exhaustion but not once had he looked this _tempting_.

His eyebrows were still drawn together into a scowl and she straightened them with her fingertips. "Look at that face… That face is sooo scary I'm gonna piss my tiny panties. Well I would if you'd just let me keep them on long enough." She slid her palm down his muscular thigh, noticing how that knee was slightly bent. Her hand was flat and resolute as it reached his calf and worked its way back up, relishing the rare opportunity to touch the elusive alien specimen with such unbridled freedom.

"Big bad guy, you're not so tough right now, are you?" Her hand snaked its way to cup him between the legs, squeezing him gently. "I could say I am your mistress… I could do as I please with you if I wanted right this moment, and what would you do? Let's see… would you get all moody and start crossing your arms with that glare of yours…" She dropped her voice as low as she could. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans and you will bow down to me woman…" The corner of her lip curled up. "And then I would do as you say, kneel down, and you would whimper in pleasure and pain as I…"

Her hand began stroking him over the fabric and she felt her mouth water a bit at her own imagination. "…while I kiss you the way you like it, where you like it" Her hand reached up to his waistband but she darted her eyes in the direction of his face before attempting anything else. He seemed out of it, so she gave herself a few seconds to regard the cosmic aristocracy of his visage. It was all _very_ fine, oh, but the mouth… the things he made her feel with those lips of his, with that tongue. He had learned to do quite a lot more than just hiss and grunt; things she didn't even know were possible. She blushed and bit her lower lip. Not that she'd ever tell him just how much she liked them. What a vain asshole.

She moved her eyes back to his crotch and her heartbeat quickened. So he liked using her? She'd use _him_, alright. Her fingers began sneaking under his shorts in a heated attempt to violate him while he lay there, completely oblivious to her ministrations. She licked her lips, her heart leapt, her palms sweat in anticipation of the feel of his...

Her cell phone rang so loud she jumped in place. "Fuck!" Bulma withdrew her hand and pulled the device from the pocket of her coat all the while trying not to drop it. "Stupid, god-awful piece of…" Her entire face sunk the minute she looked at the name blinking on the color screen. She didn't move, staring at the device for what seemed like ages all the while feeling the gears in her head turn in reverse. Things didn't make sense, this juxtaposition, this irreconcilable scenario of… three.

She turned around and approached a filing cabinet to lean against it. A little sigh, a look at the ceiling, and she had gained enough resolve to hit the green button and deal with reality.

"Yamcha?"

"Bulma." His voice no longer carried the subtle undertones of jealousy, sarcasm and bitter anger of that day she'd flipped out and sent him packing. As was usual with their quarrels, the event had been rather colorful, complete with her throwing his clothes out the balcony doors and slamming them for effect. It had happened a mere two days after he'd come back from his training trip, when she'd gotten quite suspicious that the spree had been more about some other type of amusement that didn't exactly involve fighting.

He'd paced like a cage lion._ You want to be the center of the universe don't you? You will take nothing less than that. Is a kiss on the cheek cheating, dammit… I've seen how you look at him… I've heard how you talk about him…_

Scandalous screaming, _you are the cheater_… and… _I think this is over. _The prospect of such loneliness was terrifying but at that point she felt she'd take sexual tension with a murderous stranger over a single more day of the Yamcha rollercoaster.

"You shouldn't be calling me." Her voice dropped down to a whisper, no sign of animosity in it. It was the usual effect of time on their constant squabbles.

"You are right I shouldn't, but before you hang up on me, I just felt a need to tell you something important…" He sighed at the other end of the line, his tone becoming a little less guarded. "Bulma I miss you, it'd be impossible not to. I can't erase so many years just like that, and if I find it so hard to do, then that would let me to believe you… you probably feel the same way."

Bulma clenched her eyes shut and felt a needle of guilt prick her soul. Images of earlier today, as Vegeta grabbed her on this very same lab rushed to the front of her mind.

She softened her voice further into a gentle plea. "Yamcha… this is ridiculous. You know this isn't just another petty quarrel. I said we were over, I said it was the end of the road for us and you have got to understand that. Don't make this harder than it already is."

_He'd made her drop her lab instruments, pushed her against the counter and raised her skirt._

"Bulma, don't get me wrong, I also don't want to go back and reenact what happened that last day. I don't want to go over the stupid circumstances that made us end up like this."

_And his fingers, they had stroked her entrance before pulling his pants down to his knees and fucking her from behind._

Yamcha paused. "I am not going to beg for your forgiveness Bulma. I think we are long past that point. But I want you to know, I know I may not have been the most perfect boyfriend all the time. I need you to know I realize I may have not always been what you needed me to be."

_And it had felt good, when he suddenly went tense trying to hold his pleasure in as he pinned her against the drawers. His hardness had been immobile and erect inside her and she'd doubled over, feeling his legs pressed against hers. They had stayed in that position for a while, like animals mating in a dark corner of a secret place. _

"I…" Her voice broke in midsentence.

"I am not going to ask you to get back together with me. I know that's not the way things go. But don't you think we should at least try and be friends again? We were… we were more than just lovers. You are my best friend. Our pillow talk… the things we lived together, don't you remember that?

She leaned her head against her palm and played with a stray curl of hair. There was a doleful expression in her eyes, something her ex could probably sense without even seeing her. She exhaled and felt something tear up inside her. It was a wound that hadn't open in a long time. "Yamcha, I do miss you… I miss what we once had and believe me; I wish things weren't this way. God, when we were together… I could talk to you, I could hug you, kiss you and feel comforted, I could be free, so free… why would you take that away from me? Why? Why would you even think of giving it all to someone else?"

He sighed heavily, his voice trembling a little. "I won't ever take it away, baby. What we have won't ever die. If you need me, right now as a friend, I am more than willing to take that. And if things go well, if time does its thing, then maybe later on…"

"I love you…" It slipped her lips, soft and sorrowful like the singing of birds at the end of spring. She did, she would love him forever in the deep, rooted way one loves a best friend or a brother. The way you love family and memories too important to be forgotten. _Did she still love him as a man?_

"I love you too…" She could hear the smile in his voice, could feel a sudden genuine flicker of nostalgia. And she closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing sensation of the human love and compassion she had been so deprived of lately. "So, friends again?"

"I… I can't…"

"I will try and change Bulma, if you want me later on, I swear I will try and change. I always wanted to get married, to have children, and I never once saw me doing it with anyone but you."

Here he was, offering her something she wasn't brave enough to desire yet. But _he_ was, he was finally there after so long and he would anchor her, he would be her compass. This was the love of her life she was talking about, and why not? Maybe… maybe in the future she'd attempt to have a family with him? He was strong, gentle and handsome. He'd be, well, he'd be a good father…

"Yes… perhaps later on. I need some time though and I can't make any promises but I would never…" She closed her eyes again and swallowed "God, how could I ever just kick you out of my life you silly head. I could never do that." Her smile widened a bit. "How could I ever just forget about us...? Right now I am in the middle of something though, but I will be seeing you later. I have to go."

Bulma's husky whisper lingered in the air as they said their goodbyes, each enraptured on a sudden wave of memories that were as heartwarming as the thoughts of childhood and homecoming. She clicked the phone off and issued a sad little gesture before turning around to present day.

And the world stopped.

He was there sitting up on the table, looking at her with those penetrating black eyes that were impossible to acquire from the human gene pool. He spat the special tube that been placed inside his mouth to regularize his breathing pattern and got off to stand on his feet.

A cold shiver crawled down her spine but she stood paralyzed, unable to say a word or move an inch. He tore the black ice of his gaze away to begin pulling at the electrodes and the IV that had been attached to his wrist. He did so in mechanical silence, as if he were alone in the room and she were nothing more but another piece of furniture standing in the middle.

A few seconds were enough to make her snap out of her mental limbo. "Wait… be careful." She approached him, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with him for fear of… she wasn't even sure why or what she feared. Instead she focused on helping him free himself of the flimsy cables that had been methodically spewing information for the last three hours unto her supercomputer system.

She finally gathered the courage to speak in a barely audible whisper "How long have you been awake?" She tucked the wires away carefully while he walked a few steps to gather the clothes that were strewn over a wooden chair.

She waited for an answer that didn't come, and she glanced in his direction, visibly annoyed at his arrogance and indifference.

He swiftly got dressed, boots and all, still sporting a deep scowl and zipping up his pants with quick, elegant motions. "Speak".

It was all he said in that velvety voice of his without even minding her one look. Bulma's delicate eyebrows drew together at the short command. "huh?"

He finished adjusting his shirt before sliding his pupils to the corner of his eye and then gracing her with a dour look.

She frowned and turned away, grabbing the papers the machine was printing with laser precision. "Oh… sure. Well, it seems all your functions are very much standard. Blood, Ki levels… nothing jumps…" Her eyes narrowed and his followed as she held a paper to her nose and read the symbols with deep interest.

Vegeta lifted an eyebrow and squared his shoulders to glower at her with his usual intensity. Her eyes flew sideways to meet his before quickly returning to study the graphs. "Muscle index has decreased slightly, but then that is only normal. You haven't been training on the GR which would explain that quite easily."

He grunted and crossed his arms. "The Ki map, get to it."

She curled the side of her mouth and glared at him. "Sure, _Oujisama_, if you'll just give a second."

His muscles tensed with impatience as she fumbled around with her coat, looking for something in its numerous pockets. He pressed his teeth tightly, deeply irritated at her for those snide little glances she threw at him. Damn woman didn't learn, not even after banging her for hours on end during the sweltering nights they shared. It appeared what didn't kill her made her stronger, but then again, that was proving more than entertaining to his hunting instincts. It was actually way better than he had initially expected.

They had come here today because one of her "cell phone" devices had begun beeping incessantly a few seconds into a particularly heated session between the sheets. She had insisted on picking up, adducing the other humans needed her in what she called her office. He should have been more adamant and zapped the damn thing into a smoldering lump. After staring at the bright screen for a few seconds she begun whining about how she was ten minutes late to some meeting she had forgotten about. It would have been futile to hold her hostage, she was louder than usual and insistent on how she just had to leave or the world was going come to an end. And so he had to stop moving inside her and withdraw a very swollen and painful erection.

"Crap… where did I leave the Ki-mapper"

Vegeta's right cheek twitched in irritation, a particular quirk he'd had since childhood. He then raised his chin to the side haughtily.

She had hopped on one foot trying to pull her panties on while running around looking for clothes to throw on from the mess her room was still in. She said she just couldn't find her capsules, didn't know were her hover car was and dammit, dammit dammit, couldn't he do something about it.

And so he'd lounged there braced on an arm under the covers staring at her angrily like any healthy pissed of male who'd been harshly interrupted in the middle of sex.

She started talking to herself, about numbers and figures and the responsibilities of her status, grabbing her bag and capsulating it before tying her tangles into a tight pile.

"If I do something about it, will you shut the hell up" He'd said, getting off the bed and pulling his own clothes on. She nodded fretfully.

He flew her here at a speed that had probably sucked the air out of her lungs, but she seemed rather grateful the minute they landed on the helicopter pad on the roof deck. She mumbled something about record speed getting to the office and directed them, through some dark stairs into her private laboratory.

He had cursed her repeatedly when she got a second call as soon as they closed the door saying she still had a few minutes to spare anyway and that the meeting was at 10:30 not 10pm. She began grabbing instruments, arguing about how she should probably make use of her time in a more effective way being she was still early to whatever it was she'd come to do in the first place. Damned little girl. He grabbed her from behind and finish what they'd started roughly, half maddened with frustration at the human race and her loud mouth.

At least he'd sated the pain of his arousal. She then left saying the best thing to do was for him to kill some time while she was gone by undergoing the physical she'd planned to do sometime soon anyway.

"Found it."

"About fucking time."

She shook a long black bar with a screen before tapping the end on the heel of her palm and projecting a ray that scanned him from head to toe. It beeped a few times and finished with a single sustained noise that nearly pierced his sensitive eardrums.

"Electromagnetic field of the seven layers of Ki, 93.4 imbalanced."

"What?" He unhooked his arms and frowned at her in utmost concern. She raised her eyes to meet his and turned the device off.

"Vegeta, if you think that's bad, then you should know it used to be even worse. Does 98 imbalanced sound scary to you? It's good Pappa didn't mention it or you wouldn't have known what to do with such dreadful information."

He bore his eyes into hers for a long time, without saying anything. It was one of those unsettling things he did that would make anyone's blood chill up. He was probably used to sizing up his adversaries with this kind of cool intimidation.

"I don't like the idea of loosing muscle index." He said gruffly. "I must train under gravity again to not fall behind on that respect."

She walked towards the counter and begun sliding the pages of his exams neatly on a folder labeled "Vegeta No Ouji". She supposed she should use his title as a surname for lack of anything else.

"I will set the gravity levels at 100 G. If you start exerting yourself too much you can surely fall into the same pitfalls as before, which would mean all we are… _doing_ in order to fix your problem would be in vain."

She didn't look at him, half expected a stinging retort, but he remained quiet. It was part of what she liked about him, his unpredictability, like a dangerous animal that was both strong and intelligent.

"That is acceptable for now. Are your dealings done in this place."

She nearly smiled at how his questions were always formulated in the tone of a command. She stuck her sketchbook, other papers and his file on her leather bag and zipped it shut. She refastened her trench coat tightly around her body before staring him down for the expanse of five eternal seconds. He narrowed his eyes to slits and glared at her with equal determination.

"How long had you been awake?"

He didn't move, as if trying to make her nerves falter but she stood her ground, basking in that look of sheer overbearing power.

After a moment he snorted and turned his face sideways. "A few minutes."

Her eyes remained fixed on him and she hesitated for the very first time as to what to do, say or think. "Vegeta…"

"Woman, I don't care who you talk to. I care who you fuck." With that his eyes returned to hold hers firmly. "You may think, feel, or say as you please; all I give a damn about is your body." He spoke with all the self-assuredness in the world, his posture, his expression and every nuance of his body as arrogant as ever. Still, there was a cool calmness to his demeanor and that was what unnerved her most.

A gesture of something that looked like deep hatred flitted across her face. The sudden pain in the pit of her stomach felt like burning acid.

Her heels resounded in the small lab as she stepped closer to him, eyes lit on blue fire. "Well, I am perfectly glad we're on the same page, _my Prince._" She coated her words with a double dose of sugar and she slipped her hands up his torso under his shirt. Her palms tingled at the feel of the hard shape of his body. His smell, so clean and stimulating, so unmistakably virile seeped its way into her nostrils and rushed to her brain.

He must have been entertaining similar thoughts, for he pressed his nose to her hair, still finding the scent of their bed sheets between the silken blue strands. He grabbed the base of her skull and lowered his mouth to her ear, the moisture and heat of his breath sending thrills trough her body. "Good. I wouldn't want to touch you if I were to smell trash on your skin."

"And how is that bad for me?" Her tone was defiant, her words driven out by the single childish purpose of kicking his pride in the gut.

He chuckled evily, a low sound that rumbled in his throat. "Little one, you forget I know exactly how."

She bit her tongue, chose to remain quiet and lose herself in the sensation of her palms under the cotton of his shirt. God, no one should know, no one needed to be aware of her little pact with the devil and how she had winded a glorified whore to his darkest needs. What would they think if they realized she was his pleasure girl? Entered into a liaison that was based upon sheer lust and possession? No one would understand this thing they had together, she wasn't even sure _she_ did.

She wanted to kick and scream and retain some measure of control but his hands on her waist, as they pressed her body to his him reminded her of the unavoidable truth. She was his… to use, to play with, to wrestle around. He used that against her, every day and every night, punishing her for having "attempted" to take everything away from him and throw him out in what he thought was a deliberate ploy to bring about his demise. He thought she'd wanted to dispose of him with arrogance and self-righteousness as if he was nothing more than a depraved demon from the pits of hell. He probably thought she had wanted nothing to with him. She couldn't tell him the truth, not in a million years. He wouldn't believe her and even if he did, he'd hate her even more for tricking him into sleeping with her. Either way she was quite literally, fucked.

She felt her own share of deep running anger, something that was half need and half hatred. His touch was merciless at times, his lust to dominate her in bed like an alpha male bordering on frenzied. She felt dirty and used every time he ordered her to swallow and she complied. She felt like a whore whenever he made her screech his name in the middle of the night as she moved her hips frantically. The pleasure was nothing without the pain and the more she had him, the more at home she felt there, doing forbidden things in perfect seclusion.

What would her parents think? Worse, what… what would Yamcha and her friends think? He'd killed some of them when he first arrived on Chikyuu. He'd been heartless and cruel enough to end their lives as if they were less than the grime on his boots. And there she was, wailing in pleasure in his bed as he ravished her repeatedly. There she was asking for more as he touched her, the man that would kill her family and all her friends without an inkling of remorse. Kami, what would he do once he tired of her… and what was probably even more dreadful, what if he never did? What kind of life would she live if he took her away as his private toy to use and abuse forever?

It was her body he wanted, her body he craved… the sick bastard would probably even enjoy the knowledge of her loving someone else while he rammed her senseless every night.

She ran her hands up his back and reared her head to look into his eyes. "I will fuck you, all the while thinking of someone else."

"And screaming my name?" His whisper brushed her lips, arousing her further.

She breathed agitatedly into his face. "Jerk…"

"Bitch." Vegeta pressed her to him, his palms firmly on her bottom.

"Miss Briefs?'" Gosh, this sure was a day that just wouldn't end. A gentle knock on the door pulled Bulma out of the half-insane whirlpool she was already beginning to sink into.

Vegeta glared back at the door and emitted half a curse before letting her disentangle herself from his arms.

She ran to the door and pressed the button to step outside, leaving it still partially open. Her assistant apologized profusely before giving her a few last minute notes regarding the office, and the firing that had already taken place. She also spoke of the upcoming reception to be held at the yellow dome in honor of the new partnership. Bulma whinged and moaned, complaining about how she could be briefed about such matters through the more convenient medium called email.

Cherry peeked around her when she noticed the man inside the lab, his dark glittering eyes and exotic mane catching her attention at once.

She gasped. "Miss Briefs, I didn't know you had a new boyfriend?

Bulma moved to block the view of the door, attempting to push the woman away with gentle shoving.

"God… no Cherry, he isn't" She whispered hurriedly. "He's just a… a friend, a distant friend from my parents that's staying with us temporarily."

Cherry's eyes widened and the undeniable spark of female curiosity lit them at once. She lowered her voice to Bulma's hushed volume. "Will he be at the party?"

Bulma exhaled in exasperation, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible. "I sincerely doubt it Cherry, and if I were you I wouldn't keep my hopes up with this one, so please, please, save your pool soul the displeasure."

"The displeasure? He looks like a dark knight from the movies, you know, riding a black horse and sweeping you away into the night…"

"Cherry!" She hissed, beginning to grow tremendously exasperated with the conversation. "I really have to go now."

The younger woman smiled and pulled her business card from her shirt's pocket, offering it to Bulma between two resolute fingers. "Do you promise you'll at least pass this along to him? Please, you can't say no. I'll be forever grateful!"

Bulma blinked a couple of times at the white, glossy card before snatching it off her fingers and sliding it into one of her own pockets. Cherry winked and took off, nearly skipping down the corridor.

She looked at her disappear around the corner, oddly transfixed in a mental repetition of what had just happened. She didn't want to think at all, didn't undergo a cognitive, rational mental process. Instead, she walked back inside, and saw him standing there, next to the big window that was already open to a white and blue sky.

"What did your human helper want that couldn't wait. Will you have to remain in this building?"

She shook her head and capsulated her bag, sliding it into her coat. "She… she didn't want anything." With that she strode towards him and clasped her arms around his neck. It seemed there wasn't hope for a whisper of normalcy in her life. Her female friends were probably used to being picked up from work by their significant others in a snazzy car or a trendy motorbike. She… well, she traveled in a slightly different fashion.

"Hn" He reached around to lift her legs, but she stopped him with one delicate hand. "Wait!" She moved to unclip her hair, letting its voluptuous curls hang down. Her other hand reached down to take her heels off and hold them in one hand while her other arm curled around his shoulders. "I don't want to lose a shoe in mid air. They're Dolce's."

He lifted her up with strong arms, pressing her tightly against his body. "What's a Dolce?"

"It's a Chikyuu thing…"

"And the hair. You are rather impractical _onna_."

She smiled and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I like the feeling of it fluttering to the wind."

Those were her last words before exhaling and closing her eyes. The next thing she knew she was rushing through the skies and soaring through the heavens like a shooting star.

--

A/N: I have no idea how this chapter ended so long! I woke up 15 pages later. I am unworthy of all the lovely feedback I've been getting but will forever hold it close to heart. To all you faithful readers and reviewers, and I do know who you all are, blows kisses. Ch. 8… It's all just physical, or is it?


	8. Keep a Secret

**Disclaimer:** DBZ is the rightful property of its creator, Akira Toriyama. It doesn't mean I can't play with the Prince of all Saiyans, does it?

**Author note:** There's a reference to that watch-like device Bulma gives Gohan so he can change into the Saiyaman costume somewhere in this chapter. (You'll recognize what I'm talking about). On another note, the Japanese version of DBZ is sometimes hilarious. I just love hearing him being called "Vegeta-chan".

_This chapter's dedicated to the lovely gokusgirl, one of my most faithful reviewers, please don't go dying on me! _

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 8

Step 9 – Keep a Secret

The cool breeze infused with a scent of roses came as a stark contrast to the oppressive heat inside Capsule 3. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit him as soon as he emerged from the metal globe, a normal aftereffect of his body adjusting to a gross difference in gravity pulls. Not minding the discomfort, he moved with exhausted steps towards a place secluded among the tallest trees of the compound. It was a near desperate attempt to seek refuge from the overwhelming brightness of Chikyuu's kaleidoscope of light and color. He really did need that beyond belief, a safe haven away from the voices, the people, the overbearing presences that now invaded the rooms he'd walked about so freely a mere couple of weeks ago.

At last he knelt on the ground and dragged his sweaty body forward until he collapsed on a bed of baby's breath flowers. The cushion of tiny white petals that now lay crushed under his strained muscles offered some type of comfort, the soft whooshing of the wind against the leaves almost lulling him into slumber. Yet he remained aware, surrounded by his one silent companion.

Chikyuu.

The most beautiful, most intriguing planet he'd ever set foot on, home of crystal clear rivers and mountains that turned to blue under the spell of twilight. Days were infinitely sublime but it was the nights that held the most enthralling quality, with that odd chirping of insects and an all-encompassing darkness. _And her. _

His body had learned to associate dusk with the suppleness of her skin and the feel of her womanhood. The death of the sun never failed to make the muscles in his lower abdomen tense as if he were some pubescent boy inflamed with the prospect of milky thighs and hot, tight pleasure. Train by day, fuck at night, all night, until he felt completely drained. Yet somehow the thirst, the hunger would only grow stronger by the time the following evening came around.

It was odd really, how good her curves felt pressed against his body, as if molded for him by the gods themselves. Like an irony or a joke of fate. It was almost unnerving how his palms sweat with yearning while he trained in the Capsule ship, thinking about the things they'd done the night before, about the way she'd called his name between hitched breaths. He'd even caught himself smirking like an idiot while drifting off in the middle of his kata, a most unsettling thing to come across. He used that feeling of utter self-embarrassment to push himself harder, as much as was possible under the almost insulting, mediocre pull of 100g. Incidentally, it did take enormous willpower to agree to so little but in the end his impulsiveness was forced to take a seat and let reason lead the way. It was a setback, but with a greater purpose.

He opened his eyes and watched as the rays of light danced with the leaves up high. This kind of thoughts never failed to let certain wariness crawl into his stomach. There was no doubt the willingness to train at such a low level was also a testament to the fact that he did, after all, believe in the woman's smarts to aid him in his plan to become Super Saiyan. Of course there was something about that was deeply…unsettling, yet there was no denying she had superb mental prowess and he was smart enough himself to recognize that. _Of course she had brains;_ otherwise he would have never even considered taken her as his rightful female.

But it wasn't just about her wits was it? It was also the body. He turned his head to the other side; the minuscule dainty flowers tickling his nose while he indulged in thoughts of one particular night she'd make him sit on the bed inertly. She said she had something to show him, something _fun. _Fun? Whatever the hell that meant according to the inane customs of her people.

And so he sat there, on the bed, bewildered and cross armed as she stood before him in her regular everyday clothes. She said she had invented a handy wrist device that had the ability to reconfigure clothing to whichever particular settings had been previously programmed into it. He said he didn't get, and grasped a cushion tighter to his crotch to cover his nudity. He had been aroused but her technical babble was already beginning to maim his desire.

She said she had a way to explain it better and with a swift movement, she hit the button to reveal her wearing something totally… different, in fact it was something that was barely even there. "Lingerie" she called it. It had been easy to memorize the word after her constant repetition when she saw him frown in deep confusion.

"Lingerie?"

"Lingerie."

It was a black see through corset _thing_ that hugged her upper body making her breasts look like they were going to explode. He'd beaten the image of her nude legs looking interminably long out of his head the next day while he trained. He'd made sure to pass out from the strain for letting his mind wander off into memories of the flimsy string that had covered her core. Yet shedding the remembrance of his loins stirring uncontrollably was harder than he'd thought. It was invariably true; the feeling of shame he'd felt when he caught himself staring at her still persecuted him.

She said that wasn't all… that she had other things pre-programmed in that mind-boggling contraption and she was more than curious to see which one he liked the most. A little show, for his own enjoyment, a piece of pure indulgence after a life of battle and brimstone. He had been intrigued at the thought of it, and he'd only managed to nod once, still holding on to his frown for dear life.

She produced some sort of minute red mesh that consisted of straps, straps everywhere and she said something about… chiffon, lace? Fuck knew. He was too concentrated following the crisscrossing paths of the strings as they hugged her body tightly. She looked like a woman packed and ready to be devoured.

_Do you like it?_ She said with wide eyed expectation, twirling around like an innocent girl doing something harmless. That's when he started to salivate and to his perpetual disgrace he asked a question. "Do you have any more of these garments?"

In a matter of seconds she was looking at him coyly, wearing something that looked like a whisper of fabric, so thin in its whitish transparency it looked like he could tear it off with his eyes alone. It was snug against her straining… tits, as soldiers called them during conversations around bonfires he'd only overheard and never participated on. His eyes had then slid to the threads that barely concealed her lower regions and then… stockings up to her thighs. In white, all white like some immaculate nymph.

He really didn't remember much of what happened next, it was all a blur of sweat and tongues and sheer ecstasy. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a woman scantily clad. Hadn't those whores worn things that were perhaps akin to her tiny clothing? But was it ever that smooth? Had they ever looked like she looked that night when she appeared clad like a fallen angel? Fallen all the way to hell to touch his heated skin and let him drink until he was satisfied.

Gods, he could really behave like a miserable fool sometimes, a shame to the dignity of his crown._ What was he, a fucking third class soldier?_

What a weakness to let his body take over so completely and to fall so heavily under the spell of her wiles. What a pitiful thing that he liked inhaling her perfume under the covers as he let her cling to her. Her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, the heat, the moisture, the smell…

Vegeta pushed the wayward thoughts away from his mind in an effort to remain in control. He braced the weight of his upper body on his forearms and peered through the trunks of the trees at the enormous yellow building ahead. She was in there, with her parents, pretending to be a good girl. He remembered the day they came back from wherever they'd skulked to for the past few weeks and how completely taken by surprise she'd been. Truth be told, so had he.

They'd both been in the kitchen, early in the morning after having emerged from what was for all intents and purposes, their bedroom. The morning breeze that accompanied dawn was seeping through the curtains allowing the mist to chill her skin. It'd given her goose bumps. For some reason he'd focused on that as she plugged some device in a socket too blend something in for him. She called it a "smoothie" and said it was fantastically healthy for him. Chikyuu names were all rather stupid in his opinion but it did taste particularly good. It hadn't been the first time she'd prepared him such a blend. In fact it was already beginning to turn into some sort of routine, him and her alone together, in the house, almost like…. mates?

He grunted at the thought before refocusing on the dome. During those days spent together she'd been particularly sedate early in the morning and he'd usually wake up to the feeling of her soft lips all over his body. They'd shower together, they'd eat together, she'd work, he'd train, she'd come home… he'd slip into her room… and it would all start over again. Round and round, until constant proximity made him memorize her every gesture, especially that one, that tiny slanted smile she gave him when she caught him staring at her as she cooked, as she did their bed…

She was so earthy, so unrefined in the things she did. She "peed" when he was still in the bathroom shaving that Saiyan moustache that threatened to come back every few days. She ate in bed and sucked her fingers, luring him to suck them too because it was supposed to taste too good. She plucked at her underwear when it stuck too deep, _gods_, in front of him. And yet her brainpower was nothing short of genius. She would lie on the sheets, her feet propped on the headboard throwing mathematical equations in the air as he lounged on his belly, trying to concentrate on his own concerns.

"… According to the parameters of the calculation I suppose I'd have to multiply 65 times 274,000 to achieve a final answer."

"17 million 810 thousand".

He still remembered the look of shock in her face as she braced her weight on one arm to stare at him from the other end of the bed.

"What? Th…that's actually right. I never needed a calculator for this kind of thing but I'd never met anyone else who didn't either".

He'd only looked back at her for a few seconds, eyes half-lidded in sleepiness until after a while she slumped back down. "I didn't know Saiyans had such mathematical ability."

"They don't." He replied with a voice that was already slurring. "I do."

That's the way life progressed in the unnatural privacy of those short days and long nights until the morning her mother glided into the kitchen wearing a bright yellow dress and that overbearing disposition that always befuddled him. Thank the gods they'd been wearing clothes, although his concubine's tops left little to the imagination. That and those blue pants she so liked sliding into which hugged her hips a bit too tightly in his opinion. For some reason little details like those had remained firmly etched in his memory, as if time had frozen still that day, the second life _changed_. Her posture, her expression…

"Bulma! Oh Kami, It is so great to see you again! And Vegeta-chan! I'd say you look even more striking than usual, it seems the past few days have suited you quite nicely."

"Mamma… I had no idea you'd be here so soon, why didn't you call first…I…" She was surprised, her eyes wide and her body tense under the other woman's relentless scrutiny.

"…and they most definitely have suited you quite nicely too, Bulma-chan. In fact I'd say you are as glowing as a blushing bride."

Her father trailed in, carrying pointless trinkets they'd obviously gathered during their time away. She mentioned they'd taken the chance to trek the globe and see things they'd have never had the chance to see otherwise, all the while warbling about how beautiful every single town, city and patch of land was.

The woman's father spoke. "Now dear, don't overwhelm the kids with too much detail. There will be more than enough time to discuss it over dinner. By the look of Vegeta's clothing it seems he was about to hit the Gravity Room, am I right son?"

Bulma cut in, still looking fidgety.

"Mamma… I am glad it was such an eventful trip… but I think Pappa's right. How about you go get reacquainted with the pets..."

"Nonsense! I brought you all sorts of things you'd better open right now. After all such a lovely trip would have never been possible if it hadn't been for your…"

"Yes! Because I offered to take care of the pets, no need to thank me, please, we'll discuss it later, now why don't you guys go freshen up…" She tried pushing her away with light shoving, still smiling and being patient about her mother's incessant babbling.

"Vegeta-chan, are you Bulma's boyfriend now?"

He stared at her, one eyebrow quivering as was usual when she assaulted him with her unending chatter. He would never admit it, but to his eternal shame, most of the time he just didn't know what the hell to say to her. He had never faced such mighty opponents as the woman's parents, and that lady… she was almost beyond Vegeta's ability to grasp.

"Boyfriend?" It was all he could say as he looked at her as puzzled at that first day he'd set foot on the front lawn of Capsule Corporation.

"Mother! Shut up…" Bulma hissed, opening her eyes as round as dishes.

The blonde looked back over her shoulder at the old man who was now polishing some strange ceramic ornaments. "I have to say she is a rather lucky girl wouldn't you say love?" The blonde chirped on. "She was born with such advantage over the rest of the people and now she gets to have such a handsome, strong young man as Vegeta-chan to keep her warm. Dear? Isn't that fantastic…!"

He really did feel his cheeks begin to burn and he grated his teeth in sheer embarrassment. Gods, they were definitely low-borne, with that shrill volume and that overbearing excitement that reeked of commoner.

"Well, welcome to the family Veggie-chan." She clasped her hands together and beamed at him like he was some precious boy she wanted to cuddle.

"Mamma! Please stop. What are you talking about, we aren't together. Are you out of your mind? Is it the jet lag? He most certainly isn't my boyfriend." She brought down her voice to a deadly tone. "Isn't that right, Vegeta?"

He looked at her, took in the stern determination of her pleading eyes as she awaited his response. But he merely returned her glare.

And with that he placed the glass he'd been holding all along on the countertop before exiting the kitchen through the adjacent balcony. He stood there perched on the railing, ready to fly off unto the lawn but the wind carried their voices through to him, keeping him still against his will.

"Do you even know who he really is? You must know I would never be with someone like him. How could I ever be his girlfriend?" Her whispers resounded in his brain the minute he lifted off to a self-imposed exile into the depths of his training capsule.

_Do you know who he is._ Yes she thought she was better than him, liked pretending she was pure and uncorrupted. He sometimes saw her sitting in the living room, the place she'd been his for the very first time, on the same couch, talking to the human that used to be her partner. She played the role of some virginal creature, chaste and undefiled. But no one knew the darkest truths about her and what they shared; they couldn't even begin to understand what she was capable of.

But _he_ knew.

He had learned the extent of her fire and her deepest desires. He knew how her skin became tremulous under his touch and her body swollen with undeniable wanton. And so in the middle of secrecy he'd walk into their chambers every night since to lay with her and remind her how much of a lie her everyday façade was. That she was his and, better yet, that she liked it.

If she wanted to continue the farce to please others and sooth herself so be it. Let them keep thinking she was a paradigm of decency while she fooled them with her elaborate ruse. She may laugh with them, speak with them, but she lay with her master every night, she fucked the enemy.

_I would never be with someone like him._ Yet she walked around with the smell of his seed so pungent he knew exactly where she was at all times. What was undetectable to humans he could inhale through his every pore.

At the end of the day, he aimed to wipe her delusions of morality until daddy's little girl realized she really wasn't his superior. Let her pretend. There was only one thing she got right in her assumptions, and for that he respected her valiance. He really did like to believe he was in fact, pure evil.

--

There was unsurpassable elegance to the crystal dinner table in the middle of the room, from the glistening china to the sparkling wine glasses and the silverware. The scent of lilies was infinitely subtle, intermingled with the aroma of the amouse bouche that had already been served. Black truffle canapés, nothing more, nothing less, a very ambitious way to start the interminable parade of fancy cuisine inspired by one of her mother's glossy magazines. Mamma surely liked dinners, but more than that, she adored food that looked "pretty" and this time around, it really showed.

She had waltzed around the room, her dress swaying about as she greeted the well perfumed guests that had slowly filled the chairs. Bulma was incredibly thankful she had kept it moderate, narrowing it down to only a few close friends of the family and as usual with this type of gatherings, her neighbors (her mother shopped with the wife on a regular basis). Now they all sat engaged in light conversation, overtly excited about the extremely boring details that usually composed early dinner chatter.

She hadn't wanted to come. Really. It had taken her mother hours of pushing and shoving before she'd finally agreed to grace the room with her presence, but not without first thinking about making a statement. She had appeared clad in a little black dress, a sin that perhaps would have been forgivable if it weren't pure leather and the front plunged into a very generous cleavage. It was obviously her way of issuing a tacit protest yet she was honestly beginning to regret it. It had been years since she'd last worn the bodacious garment and her curves seemed to be struggling to fit into the tiny scrap. Nevertheless, and being not one to shy away from a challenge, she told herself to stay for the food and leave as soon as it was politically correct to do so by using one of the already well rehearsed excuses she usually pulled in such situations._ "I am terribly sorry to leave such pleasant company but I am afraid I feel a bit indisposed"_ seemed to sound both convincing _and_ gracious enough. In anticipation for an easy retreat she had even made sure to sit at the end of the table. She really did not want to make her disappearance anymore troublesome than necessary.

"Oh, it is such a pity he hasn't showed up. I was hoping he'd join us on such a lovely evening, if only for the food." Mrs. Briefs lamented, wringing her handkerchief with dainty fingers.

"I think it would be best if we start dear. After all I am sure you've prepared a delightful number of courses we are just dying to taste. The boy must be tired from all the training he's undergone lately. We can't really blame him can we?" Her father offered the reassuring words in his usual soft mannered way, making her mother issue a squinty smile.

"My… you are right. He is probably in more need of good rest than nourishment. After all, he does exert himself to incredible limits. Such a hardworking, driven soul." She cocked her face and sent Bulma one of those polished grins she'd learned from her life as a socialite. "Bulma-chan, did Vegeta train hard while we were away?"

Her eyes widened instinctively, a pesky blush burning up her cheeks. "I…uh, sure. Very…hard." She downed a glass of water and looked elsewhere.

"I am sure he did." Beamed her mother. She was eternally thankful to Kami the minute they all started devouring their carefully concocted portions of food if only to avoid anymore unintentionally discomforting comments.

She shuffled in her seat, helplessly trying to pull the hem of her dress down. Damn her rebelliousness. She felt like a sausage, her dress as snug fitting as nothing else she had ever worn. Worst of all, it kept riding up her thighs and the clingy fabric made her hot, which was now evidenced by the sheen of sweat already beginning to glimmer on her chest. It only added to the strain of being here and it burdened her with thoughts of how different life had been before her parents had reappeared on that quiet Monday morning.

The elaborate pleasantries and propriety of tonight were a perfect contrast to the evenings Vegeta and she had shared in the bedroom, eating all those foods she'd loved since she was a child. French fries and pizza and ice cream, and licking his lips as he tried them in earnest surprise. She learned he liked chocolate, and saw how he'd preferred chicken nuggets to hamburgers. He said the latter made him look very unrefined. And milkshakes? He was keen on those too…

_You have got to try this… you are going to like it. Was it ever like this on Vegeta-sei…and the things you tasted, were they ever this sweet?_

He wouldn't respond. He'd speak with his body, with his hands. He would betray a gesture or two that she'd be careful not to miss. And with so little explained and so much lived she was now more than sure she had never felt so ignorant. For the first time she couldn't find an answer to anything, not even through her usual overanalyzing of things. Life became incomprehensible; like a riddle she still couldn't solve. All left was the undeniable truth that she'd never felt so… alive? It was astounding how her entire knowledge and self-awareness had flown out the window leaving her with only that.

She tried pushing the thoughts away frantically yet she could still feel a stinging in her chest when she realized she hadn't even seen him all day. Her parents' sudden arrival all those days ago had undeniably altered their time together which now boiled down to the hunger and desperation of every night.

"Sweetie, there's no food in the refrigerator. The bots are on standby ready to serve your helping as soon as you take a seat. The one across from Bulma is free."

Bulma choked on her entrée, (when had they even served the veal scaloppini?) when she heard her mother's tender voice rise over the gentle conversation she hadn't even been participating on.

She coughed into her handkerchief and raised her eyes to meet him as he stood in the entrance. He had obviously been on his way to the kitchen but her mamma's artfully chosen words were already beginning to break down his barrier. His frown was a bit more relaxed than usual which allowed his facial features to project their superhuman elegance. And incredibly enough she had to fight the urge to smile.

Was his striking apparition the reason she felt something flutter inside her chest and her palms begin to sweat? All she knew was she was suffering a riotous reaction at the sight of the very fine stuff she got down with every night, all the while trying to retain a measure of control. She was also amazed at her vast sense of pleasure the second she saw him stride confidently towards the dinner table and sit down directly opposite to her. As he glowered there she felt the instinctive need to say something but she chose to clear her throat instead in a conscious display of utter nonchalance. He wasn't acknowledging her presence either; she couldn't feel the familiar heat of his gaze on her body as she sat there prodding at her food.

She listened to her mother engage her guests in a short introduction to the stranger. _Bulma's friend from far away who was staying over for a few months and was very much into sports_. He was a tremendously motivated young man who trained pretty hard but also sometimes missed his family and his country. She finished by stating he did seem to be having a good time in their home and was always eager to learn about their culture, which included the language. _Yeah right._ It sounded like she was singing his praises at a male beauty pageant. Still, she had to give it to her mother for her skill at grabbing control of every social situation and veering it the way she wanted to. There was no doubt she was aware of the dynamics of the table and how important it was to portray Vegeta as the foreigner who couldn't even speak their tongue very well. That would be more than enough to set him off limits.

_Thank you mamma._

"Vegeta, make sure to let us know if you need any more food, honey." She dismissed the bots with a gentle wave. "Thank you. That would be all… My, it seems oddly quiet in here don't you all think?" Her fingertips met her lips. "I believe some music should do the trick."

"Great idea honey." Her father smiled, popping another bottle of Chianti. "Do you have one of those records we bought in our trip to that terribly exotic jungle region?"

Bulma stopped her fork in mid air. "Oh Pappa, no more weird music, please. One more tribal drumming interlude and I'll just pull my hairs out."

Dr. Briefs chuckled and so did the guests. "I am sure you can all remember just how difficult to please our Bulma was when she was a little girl. Well she hasn't changed one bit."

_He still wasn't looking at her, merely focusing on clearing his plate steadily. _

"Don't worry Bulma-chan, nothing more soothing than Pappa's favorite classical mix Cds." Mrs. Briefs said after pressing a button on her universal remote. She then turned to talk to the table in general. "All the incredibly bright people seem to have something for instrumental music have you noticed? It's one thing I've never quite been able to understand."

Bulma arched an eyebrow. She was a genius but for some reason she wasn't too keen on that type of thing herself. At least it was better than the horrible sounds her parents had managed to unearth from the depths of the jungle. If only they hadn't submitted her to them for endless hours during the last few days…

_Nothing, not a word, not a look._

Minutes dragged on, tension mounting on the place as they both ate in perfect muteness. The little bubble of their world had grown bigger and now seemed on the verge of exploding under the weight of the secrets they shared. Hadn't they rolled around in her room last night? Hadn't he looked at her through half-hooded eyes as she rode him? Yet the immutable Saiyan ate, an elusive prey, a man of hidden ardors who seemed adamant in retaining some sort of aloof disposition. She repaid him with the same detachment, not a glance, not a gesture to betray the reality of who and what they were.

_Except under the table. _

Bulma, sliced a tiny potato and popped it in her mouth as she smiled in Mrs. Rosenbaum's direction.

"And that experiment you were working on dear, what was it…"

"The Podkletnov Force beam." Said Bulma.

"Ah… yes, how is that going? Pretty risqué endeavor or so I've heard."

She slid the foot she'd freed from the confines of her shoe up his leg. "It's going better, much better than I expected. Thank you."

Her toes glided north very slowly, indulging in the sensation of the hard curve of the powerful limb. She curled her foot to touch his muscles as thoroughly as possibly over the snug pants he loved wearing. A sudden wave of electricity rippled through her body, something indescribable nearly combusting in her chest. But still he gave her nothing. Even though he wasn't pushing her away he wasn't showing her an inkling of emotion. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, like a fish out of the water ready to spring up.

_Great, more for her to work with._

She exchanged a few perfectly trivial comments with a couple of guests while munching on an asparagus and sliding her foot back and forth over his thigh, so thick and muscled her entire body shuddered in anticipation. She bit her lip when he remained as impassive as before. He really did seem to be completely concentrated on his Pasta Parisienne as if it was the most delectable thing he'd ever seen. What on earth was the matter with him? Didn't he feel anything at all? Now she just_ had_ to know.

She snaked her way towards that narrow place between his thighs, and, oh… Bulma smiled a bit, something throbbing at her very core. His rock hard bulge was a perfect place to station her foot and let it play, up and down, pressing, rubbing. Yes, the man definitely spoke best with his body.

She sucked on her fork while she risked a quick glance in his direction. Would she ever tire of looking at him? Would she ever be able to resist the feel of his smooth bronze skin against her own? She wanted him now…could he smell it?

She nudged him as hard as she could and he jolted.

"Vegeta, is everything alright?" Bulma's father inquired with concern. She could feel his black gaze on her, _at last_, yet she said nothing, resorting to showing total interest in the apple napoleons she was being served. He grunted in response and went back to finishing up a 3rd plate of food. It was good the others were entranced in some vapid conversation regarding someone's nephew's wife's son or they would have been a bit taken aback by his voracious appetite. And he was hers, completely; no one had a right to talk about, set eyes upon or notice her little catch.

She licked her spoon in a very demure gesture while she massaged his engorged need. She wanted to moan, to vocalize the fact she knew he was about to explode. It was evident against her sole, as she pushed and stroked, he wanted her. And at that moment a cloud began to blur her reason.

_I want you too… so much it hurts. Can't we just leave, you and me, anywhere? Take me with you, drive me into the ground…._

A tiny thrust of his hips, just a millimeter into her foot, almost as if he could read her convoluted thoughts and wished to sate her burning need. Her breath was beginning to shallow, perspiration breaking over her skin. One hand wrung a napkin while she pleasured him under the table, and as the beat of her heart quickened so did the overwhelming stirring in her womb. She ground herself on the seat in an effort to stifle her own urges at least a little with the pressure but she knew, instinctively, only he would do.

Then, when he lowered his fork and their eyes met she could only swallow hard, moistening her lips without even noticing it. His fingers were beginning to deform the metal of the utensil under the power of his grasp. Was he getting close? It sure seemed so… she recognized the smoldering heat in his eyes too well. This was probably getting out of hand and he probably thought so too as evidenced by his penetrating scowl. He looked like a grown up pissed off at a naughty child.

Her eyes held his, lips parted and she lowered her pressure, sliding the mischievous foot all the way down. And the minutes extended infinitely, a perfect moment of complicity until she hooked her ankle around his.

"Bulma-chan, Bulma-chan!" Her mother gasped in utter exhilaration. "Do you recognize that piece?"

The delicate wave-like sounds of a harp expanded throughout the room in a soft crescendo and Bulma's eyes widened. Her head swam still in the haze of lust but her mother's shrill tone was a rather brusque and effective way of pulling her out of it. She slowly gathered her wits enough to recognize just which song was oozing off the sound system. Yes, it was as if it were only yesterday she'd last heard it. And that second her stomach clenched.

Her mother swayed her head gently when the violins made themselves present through the most affable tones of horns and flutes.

"Yes… could you change it?, Pappa can you change it please?"

"Waltz of the Flowers…" Her father beamed, looking in Bulma's direction.

"Oh isn't that what Bulma danced when she was only 5 years old at the school gala?" Mrs. Rosenbaum offered, her eyes glinting as she sat up in her chair. "I can still remember her twirling around in the backyard in her little pink tutu, her pudgy arms flailing to the wind. Oh Bunny, the most adorable thing she was."

"Yes. Used to be cute. I just don't know what happened when she reached thirteen. I think it must have been the influence of all those god-awful TV shows they started putting on the air. Kami knows what happened to decency. One day I woke up and she had turned into a perfect rebel I tell you…"

"Mamma, I am still here. Could you change it, honestly? Pappa, hand me the remote." She perked up, her tone a lot snappier than the casual relaxedness she'd been so good at portraying throughout the evening. Vegeta stared at everyone behind a glower of sheer confusion and Bulma couldn't help but dart an eye in his direction. This was not a conversation that was happening, especially not in front of him.

"And I remember she was a rose too, isn't that right?" Now Mr. Rosenbaum found he could too track down the memory of their little neighbor running around in a cloud of tulle so many years ago.

Dr. Briefs popped a madeleine. "She most certainly was. Her mother jumped at the opportunity to turn her little baby girl into her favorite flower. Adding sparkles to the skirt was all Bulma though. I think we may have pictures lying around somewhere of her practicing her moves."

Mrs. Briefs hummed to the tune. "And tandú, plie, tandú plie… skip, skip, piroutte. I may even have the recording somewhere."

"Stop… stop… Mamma, put something else on. Come on, where's that tribal music? I change my mind, I do like drums, put the drums on."

Her foot had locked around Vegeta's ankle in the hard-rock tension she had so much difficulty hiding. Through her peripheral vision she noticed he seemed to be devouring madeleines with a peculiar glimmer to his eyes. Was he actually enjoying seeing her being placed in the spot like this? She supposed being in your own territory didn't always put you at an advantage.

"And what happened to little Bulma's love of ballet." A nice old lady, who was one of her father's long time business associates and her mother's dear friend inquired.

"It was that science gene she got from her father that took over. She got obsessed with changing the world or something to that effect. Unfortunately that meant not nurturing her creative side anymore. She used to be into drawing too. Her favorite theme was princes and princesses, do you remember love?" She spoke in her father's direction. "I think she put castles in there somewhere too. Yes, she definitely wanted to be a princess."

_Could Kami just kill her now? For real. _She balled her hands into fists and clenched her teeth. She didn't look angry, she look more like mortified.

"A pity the whole classical dancing thing too." Her mother carried on with casual grace. "She used to be infatuated with the idea of wearing pointe shoes yet sadly enough she just never got picked for that particular ensemble. Oh dear, I suppose I should just change both the song and the subject. Now let's see…"

Bulma puffed in complete tiredness and moved a few imaginary pieces of dessert in her plate with her spoon.

"Is that better sweetie?"

Bulma glanced at her and back down at her plate before shrugging. "Oh my goodness, isn't that Theme from a Summer Place?" Her father interjected. Wow quite the night tonight. It was like a little memoir show from hell, Bulma thought, her foot still hooked around Vegeta's.

"I am so glad you remember our song." Her mother sighed, smiling in a gesture of complete adoration. "The one song we danced at our wedding."

All guests seemed delighted at the heartwarming display of emotion. "A most lovely piece indeed" commented one.

"Yes. Honey, can we play it at the Capsule Corporation reception next week? I would just love to dance with you once more, all dolled up like that day so long ago." Her mother's voice had lowered to a sweet whisper and her eyes lit up when her father issued a quick nod. At that very moment and despite Bulma's prior sense of torment something shifted inside her chest. It happened when in the presence of this thing her parents brought together with them, an emotion both incomprehensible and sublime.

Love. So deep and honest it almost filled the entirety of the room. Companionship and memories, all mingled together in such a way words couldn't even do it justice. She would have preferred thinking it was nothing but a mythical emotion concocted in the minds of poets and troubadours but her parents' presence was a perfect example that proved her wrong. Not only was it infinite in its beauty, it was bittersweet in the way she got to experience it every single day of her life through the eyes of others.

"Which reminds me, who is going to be escorting you child?" Her father asked with total sincerity, his voice devoid of any slyness.

"I… " She frowned. "No one." Escort? She hadn't even thought about that. Not Vegeta for sure, who now seemed about ready to bolt after hunger was no longer an issue. He had remained perfectly quiet throughout dinner, ensconced in that mental seclusion of his. Yet she knew him all too well, and there was nothing that escaped him, nothing he had missed here tonight.

"Perhaps Yamcha." Came her mother's quiet response.

Bulma's toes curled around Vegeta's leg with the determination of a vine. "No mamma. He will be there, but not as my date. We are no longer together like that, remember?" She didn't notice her mother's little smile at the sound of her words. Her eyes didn't once lift from her plate as she spoke transfixed in the golden details of the china. All of a sudden she felt suspended in time, experiencing a feeling of perfect self-knowledge. Her limb didn't move, intertwined with his in a touch that seemed more like a small caress even in its stillness. This moment, together with him, in secret, in silence, had become her life.

A few minutes more ensued, her heart engrossed in that odd sense of tranquility, of moments spent avoiding eye contact. It seemed nearly interminable before she felt him pull away with a slow deliberate move. He got up as swiftly and graciously as he'd appeared and exited the room almost unnoticed. Her family and friends didn't realize he'd disappeared. They seemed a lot more concentrated in discussing how everyone wanted their coffee before preparing to retreat into the adjacent room and finish the evening with merry laughter and soulful conversation.

"Bulma, will you be joining us next to the fire?" Her mother inquired as she prepared to follow the rest of the group out the archway and into the soft golden hues of the den.

--

No. High heels definitely weren't made to climb ladders and walk around rooftops chasing monkeys. That was more than clear as she huffed and puffed, hoisting herself up unto the curvature of the enormous expanse that was the roof of the main dome in the complex. To make matters worse, the night was frosty and her teeth were on the verge of clattering, her nipples hardening almost painfully against the skintight fiasco that was her little dress. What in the seven hells was she even doing here? The promise of hot tea next to the fire in the cozy living room was a lot more welcoming than this cold, dimly lit expanse of nothing that extended before her. Why was it she had to go out venturing her ass into life threatening situations, chasing up demons instead of indulging in the comfort of human companionship? She gave up on responding before she even tried.

Bulma scanned the ample space and narrowed her eyes when she suddenly spotted him lying belly up on the roof. It was interesting how he always looked deeply menacing even when in repose, yet tonight he seemed… different, not a hint of that perpetual tension in his muscles. Showered in moonlight, arms crossed behind his head, he looked more like a statue that had suddenly sprung to life. A gargoyle that turns to flesh and bone during the night.

He had probably felt her already with that keen warrior sixth sense of him, and even if he hadn't, the slight tackle of her heels on the concrete showed no intentions of being stealth whatsoever. He didn't move a finger as she sat next to him, her body facing the opposite direction so she could look right down into his eyes. And… she could feel it. For the first time in the evening she felt completely and utterly, _good_, even if he wasn't acknowledging her presence.

"Human gatherings aren't always that boring you know. There is much more to it than meets the eye." The cold breeze brushed through, making her hair wave slightly to the wind. "I wish I could tell you just how many things make up who and what we are, perhaps you'd even like some of the music us humans make, music that's different to what you heard tonight." She squint her eyes a bit. "Somehow you don't strike me as the kind of guy that would enjoy sitting at a classical recital. Perhaps you'd like rock… you'd probably like Van Halen better…"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Van Halen?"

She smiled at the sound of his almost supernaturally low voice and how good it felt as it wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. "It's a…."

"It's a Chikyuu thing." He finished, finally looking up into her eyes.

She didn't say anything, just pressed her lips together and curled them up in a catlike expression.

And he remained still, both their eyes locked in what seemed a timeless moment of infinite silence. For some reason she couldn't quite recognize she felt her nerves electrify throughout her limbs, a tickling sensation suddenly frolicking inside her stomach. Why did she feel embarrassed like a schoolgirl out on a first date? Didn't he already know her more intimately than anyone ever had? He had touched her body as deeply as physically possible with everything he had, hands, tongue…. every part of him, yet she felt unnerved sitting there staring into his dark eyes.

He slowly raised his torso, bracing its weight on his hands, his face mere centimeters away from hers. _What was he gonna do, what was he gonna do… Could he sense how terrified she was? How tense and nervous?_

But she didn't move, she just let her eyes roam all over his face as if trying to memorize every single inch and every angle. Was it starlight shining through the cloudless skies that was morphing him into something this inexplicably beautiful?

She cleared her throat and tried to relax her face as much as she could. "Had… anyone ever told you, you are…"

Bulma frowned and pouted, and unfortunately that feeling of internal clumsiness returned full force. What was she, crazy? Did she want to lavish his ego so that it finally made his head explode?

"That I am what?" He asked gruffly.

She clamped her teeth together knowing fully well it was too late for her not to finish her thought. "… Well, that you are not… unfortunate looking."

He looked at her in slight confusion, brows knitted together. "Why do you say that?"

Yes, why did she? Good point. She should learn to shut her mouth, yet her tongue insisted on spewing words out of its own will. "I don't know. No point in denying the truth. Granted, the hair is something I've never seen in my wildest dreams, but even in its alien quality, it always looks almost like it's groomed. And the rest…"

He was looking at her with such intensity she felt her voice about to falter. "And… the rest is, well you know." She trailed off, looking elsewhere and glowering like she was talking about the weather.

"No, I don't know" He stated, pulling her gaze back with the sheer magnetism of his voice. There was a quiet demand to his words, something that compelled her to continue.

She garnered her thoughts and planted her pupils on him steadfastly. "It's nice."

He suddenly narrowed his eyes at her, his face becoming unreadable.

"Had anyone ever told you that?" Bulma could have sworn she saw a slight tinge of amusement flit through his expression, his eyes becoming half hooded… and then he slid them to her lips. Time ticked in her head, her ears suddenly deafening under the pressure that was rising inside her body. And she couldn't move, could only hold her breath. His face was so close, his breath on her lips… _What was he going to do?_ _God,_ w_hat…_

She was getting ready for the unexpected when he suddenly lifted his gaze towards some imaginary point in the horizon. Her already parted lips curled back as she bit on them, big glimmering eyes not leaving his features once.

She raised a hand and placed it on his cheek, turning it gently back to face her. "Fly me somewhere." She whispered, a tad or urgency coating her words. "I want to get away from here…"

Vegeta looked at her a bit perplexed, drawing his chin in a little. He regarded her for a few seconds of extreme silence before splitting it open with the velvet of his voice. "I can't do that. There is no point to it."

"There doesn't have to be a point. Just do it, take me away." She rushed, suddenly escaping the mental bars that had been firmly placed around her. Her mind struggled past fear, past restraint, in a desperate window of courage that wanted to throw all caution to the wind.

"No." He said, without any harshness, with a simplicity that seemed both sincere and final.

Bulma inhaled, her eyes suddenly becoming infused with bitter determination. Her mouth opened to say something frantic yet she shut it again and chose to stand up instead, towering above him as her hair brushed against her face. "If you won't take me, then I'll go there myself. I'll fly away on my own."

Vegeta raised his eyes and glared at her with slight irritation. "And now what the hell is that supposed to mean? Did you have too much wine to drink at that gathering of yours?"

"No I didn't, and I guess you'll find out what I mean soon enough." She began walking backwards, not taking her fierce eyes off him as she did. She was infinitely glad the minute she saw puzzlement spread across his face, his usual tension returning to his posture at once.

"What…" He rasped leaning forward.

"Oh yes, I'll throw myself Vegeta, believe me." Her voice was steel in its determination, stern in the delivery of her threat. She twisted her neck to look down over the edge of the building and its downward slope into sure death. She was so high vertigo was beginning to make her dizzy, but adrenaline alone held her together.

"Stop playing games woman. I don't believe you capable of such a thing. Not even you are that foolish." He said, legs beginning to bend as he perched an arm on a knee.

"Alright, goodnight Vegeta, I think you really don't know me well at all."

And she threw herself.

One second the harsh coldness of the wind was rushing against her body as she freefell, and the next… was she dead? Had God spared her the pain of crushed bones and sent her an angel to hoist her up towards the heavens?

She cracked an eye open, noticing how she'd been screaming all along at the top of her lungs. The first thing she felt was warmth, strength. She was safe, held tightly in his powerful arms as they hovered several meters above the ground, high, very high in the air.

"You stupid little girl!" He roared, the depth of his voice reverberating against her body. "What the hell was that all about?! Are you going through some lunar phase of complete insanity?!"

Bulma, held unto his neck for dear life, her heart beating violently against her chest. He seemed so angry she was suddenly afraid he'd just drop her on her rear in a fit of pure, blinding fury. "No you ass!! I was sure you'd get me!!" She bellowed into his face. "Isn't that obvious!"

He was breathing hard, readjusting her in his arms continuously as if he couldn't get a good grip on her. She expected him to say something else, yet he remained quiet, looking at her all flustered.

"Please, take me away now." She whispered, her tone softening infinitely and her lips almost grazing his.

He looked sideways, exhaling against the silken tresses of her aquamarine her. His strong hands grabbed her delicately, pressing her against him and embellishing her in the soft indigo of his power. They remained like that for a few seconds, merely hovering like a soft blue star in the middle of the night, their heartbeats struggling to pound in unison. As moments dragged on he slowly turned his face back to meet her eyes, his lips brushing against hers like a feather. "You are crazy woman. Why…." His voice had never sounded so rich, so deep and masculine. "Why would you do this? Where do we go now?"

She smiled against him, knowing she'd get her way, yet again. "Wherever Vegeta." Her arms narrowed around his neck trustingly, not missing a chance to look into his eyes before flying off into the darkness.

"Wherever."

--

AN: Comments, questions? Feel free to drop me a note. Ch. 9, Bulma's going to dig much deeper, and just where exactly is "wherever"? _wink_. Stay tuned.


	9. It's a Date

**Disclaimer:** DBZ isn't my property, although I do own a mind-boggling collection of all sorts of images related to it.

**A/N:** It took me longer than usual to publish this chapter. You can blame some idiot translation I had to do, (soo tedious). Nevertheless, I must bore you all again with my shows of gratitude. Thank you for sticking with me and taking the time to read this story. Your comments really do make my day and believe me; I take every word into consideration. For the purpose of this story, Kami-Sama has restored the moon after Pikoro destroyed it at the beginning of DBZ just as he did during DB.

**Warning:** Lime-on (It's my new term. I coined it. It's when a lime wants to be a lemon but it doesn't quite get there… yet)

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

By Caprice

Chapter 9

Step 10 – It's a Date

"…_a woman with spirit and not just a subservient little subordinate he could use at his pleasure. It was meant to pull him out from his shell… to tease the male… the big animal male in him… and she wanted him, but not like this… she wanted every part of him, the part that went even beyond lust." Ch. 2_

The sky, sparkling like a mantle of diamonds high above the clouds was a sight not many earthlings had a chance to witness. And to experience the purest of airs filling your lungs as you moved across the vastness of the heavens was a privilege not conceded to mortals. It was that knowledge, and perhaps the altitude, that began fooling with her brain and making her believe she was flying in the powerful arms of a deity. It was all grand and magnificent, like some outlandish dream… this ability to soar at a preternatural speed, high above the ground and feel every bit as safe as if the world was at her feet. It could have been perfect; absolute in its beauty… a thing to experience with as much childlike glee as was possible…

If only the damn dress didn't keep riding up her ass and scrunching around her waist.

Bulma groaned for the umpteenth time the second she felt Vegeta's hands slip up from her bottom and grab her waist. The confining leather of her scanty attire bunched over his powerful forearm even after her various attempts to keep it how it was supposed to be. She now felt completely un-sexy and was blushing profusely after realizing how there wasn't anything "cool" about flying with her legs dangling in the air and her white lace panties in display.

"What?!" Vegeta asked in her ear when he felt her little fist pounding on his chest. She appeared to be mouthing something unintelligible.

"Sss dow….." She tried to speak over the rush of air but it barricaded her from his face. Vegeta was forced to reduce his speed so that he could listen to whatever she was saying, until they were practically hovering in place under the moonlight. His ki kept gleaming around them, crackling with its intensity and setting the hairs on her skin on end.

"I said, slow down! We were going at a great speed until you felt the need to spread your male peacock feathers and demonstrate just how fast you can be." She huffed and puffed squirming in his grasp as she strived to pull the hem of her dress down.

Vegeta held her like a doll, both hands on her narrow waist so that she had some room to rearrange her outfit. "This is not as fast as I can be. If I flew at that speed you'd be clawing for air and dead within seconds. And what the hell's a peacock anyway.'"

She gave up on adjusting her clothing when it became apparent the scrap of black leather wouldn't obey her will. "You should use that TV in your room more often. The nature channel is the answer to all your wild life questions."

"I have no interest in such matters. I'd sooner spend my spare time on top of you." His tone was as matter-of-factly as could be and Bulma knew he probably had no idea he'd just given her his very own version of a compliment. She smiled at the way his ignorance of her culture could sometimes make him so candid and ingenuous. Her skin heat up at that realization but the cool air on her butt cheeks brought her temperature down almost immediately.

"Vegeta, could you grab me better? My dress is driving me crazy and I am now practically mooning the entire planet."

What a whiny little… "Woman, do you see anybody around? Do you want me to drop you now just to make it dead clear how high above the skies we are?"

She circled his neck tightly with her arms and clasped her legs around his waist. "Oh no, you won't. And that's not the point! I feel horrible, and it's cold and uncomfortable and…"

Vegeta growled low in his chest as his arms secured her tightly to him. "One single more word and you'll make me regret falling for this little tryst. It's your damn problem for wearing inexplicable clothes that are meant for the bedroom only."

She moved her head back to look into his eyes and felt his clean breath against her lips. "For the "bedroom" only? Is that code for _"you_" only?" She smiled teasingly, her tone dipped in sensual foreplay.

She thought she felt his body temperature rise slightly, his cheeks changing color minutely. Vegeta only grunted and raised his nose to the horizon looking as proud and unyielding as the Prince he was. He appeared more interested in analyzing their destination than in answering any impertinent questions.

"Oujisama, I don't like my ass hanging in the air like this, could you put me down for a bit?"

He lip curled in protest. "Unless you mean sitting you over a fucking cloud I wouldn't know what else to do."

She looked at him with big wide eyes, star-shine gleaming on them and making her appear like some cosmic nymph. Vegeta could only frown, a single beam of electricity coiling up inside his body. He was almost becoming used to experiencing this unnerving reaction whenever he held her so close. It seemed his body spoke its own language when it came in contact with her curves and he often wondered how a creature so powerless could be this bewitching. And tonight she was more so than usual, reminiscent of that first day he set eyes upon her.

Bulma put the edge of her hand against her forehead, scanning the emptiness in hopes of recognizing where they were and what the closest option for landing was.

"Great, this is Chiaki District, so the Chiaki Bridge must be just a little to the north."

Vegeta was a strategist at heart, a man who often knew when to pick his battles even if he was at his wits end. This was such a moment. He decided he'd rather comply with her wishes than deal with the high-pitched ring of her voice.

He flared into a spectacle of blue light as he propelled himself in the direction she signaled. This truly had to be the most exasperating race in he face of the universe. Chikyuu women, to whom everything was "cold and uncomfortable" and for some reason, always slightly off. He sometimes recalled how in the middle of sex she'd sometimes bring him back to lucidity with a tiny "Vegeta… throw the covers on..." or "Yes… no, no… not there… yes!" Who the hell got her? The worse had been fucking her in between her stupid stuffed animals only to hear some doll suddenly utter something about her name being "Mindy".

"You're squashing Mindy" She had said.

He smirked. It was good to know that had been "Mindy's" last day on earth before being reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes.

"There" She exclaimed, nodding at one of the mighty towers of the imposing structure of West Capital's Suspension Bridge. He projected himself downwards until he landed on the incredibly tall tower with unearthly grace and as soon as he did she resorted to readjusting her minuscule dress.

His eyes roamed over the enormous body of water as it lay still and quiet like a silver mirror. The twinkling of the lights far away was enough to make him frown in remembrance of long days spent gazing through the vacuum of space, when stars seemed almost within grasp yet he'd been utterly confined. The need to break free, the claustrophobia of the tiny space pod had somehow transformed into this breezy night where nothing separated him from anything and each little light shone brighter than a constellation.

"Holy Kami!" She gasped the minute she looked down over the edge of the structure, a sudden sense of vertigo taking her over. She could feel that too familiar sensation of dizziness over again, the same one she'd felt only minutes ago when she'd thrown herself from the roof of the six story building that was the Capsule Corporation yellow dome.

"Not again." He reprimanded gruffly, strong arms grasping her tightly, her back against his pectorals.

"Believe me, once was more than enough for me." She laid her head back into the crook of his neck and sighed. "I just would have never imagined I'd ever stand here of all places in the world. You're used to this but I am not…it's just… different." It was marvelous how she felt so at ease even while standing so high above in the middle of the turbulent winds.

They both remained quiet, and all he did was press her body to his during very long seconds of nothing but the rumor of the river. Then came the soft whisper of her voice "And something else… never again will I wear this blasted dress. I think it was alright for a sixteen year old body, but not for the fuller curves I somehow managed to sprout."

He ran a heated hand up her thigh and raised her dress slightly in order to touch the tiny garment that lay underneath. His fingers slipped beneath the lace to massage her silky hairs, every movement a strong caress. "Woman could you explain to me what the hell we're doing standing on a bridge?" He breathed the words against her neck, his hardening shaft pressing firmly against her tailbone. "Let's go back to our quarters… now".

The way he said the last word… with a husky need, made her close her eyes instantaneously. She slid bird-boned fingers over his forearms, indulging in the feel of the few veins that laced his muscles. "No… not yet." It took all her willpower to utter the phrase. His moistened lips ran down her neck and a very hyperactive hand played inside her undergarment.

"Vegeta" She whispered, turning around in his arms to face him. His eyes, as black and deep as wells of darkness, called to her in primal hunger but she held firmly unto her resolve. There was a purpose for her dragging him out of Capsule Corporation. In fact there had been a purpose for her sleeping with him in the first place. Too many nights had already passed submerged in a lustful frenzy. Too many times he'd taken control and used her how and when he pleased. Her questions still remained unsolved, and the need to answer them had grown too strong. She wanted to pull him out of his comfort zone, to do things her own way, and at the end of the night the time would come for a little role reversal. Vegeta-ouji couldn't hide anymore, nor could she. She had to know him, really get to know him, as well as she knew his body.

She gasped when she felt a finger sneak into her core and all she could do was grab his biceps. She couldn't lose it now… not again. "Vegeta… no, not like this, not tonight."

He frowned instantly, a feeling of icy cold doom sinking in the pit of his stomach. He knew these eyes and the fire within. He had seen them before and could tell they foreboded trouble. It was obvious she was up to something and he had to mentally brace himself for whatever wicked charm she was about to spew from her sugary lips.

"When we begun, that night a few weeks ago, I told you something important, have you forgotten what it was?"

His lips curled up in response. "Please, don't stop?"

"Not that, you jerk!" She said, pushing him lightly, yet glad his grip never wavered.

"Then I suggest you speak quickly before I run out of patience." He whispered against her lips. Bulma had to ignore the way his long, thick eyelashes brushed against hers and how the touch sent tingles through her body.

"I said I needed to do things my way. All this time, you've dominated me and gotten a mighty kick out of doing so, but once in a while you have to let me be on top and do things differently."

When he scoffed and looked sideways, she pulled his face back with the touch of her fingertips. "Before you start going off about how you're the mighty Prince of all Saiyans let me give you a little update on your Ki situation. You're definitely improving, there's no denying that, but did you know you should be at a better percentage by now? Your progress rate has steadily decreased in the past couple of weeks and stalled at about 75 imbalanced in all Ki centers. That means you're still hanging on to whatever threads of calculating control you've imposed on yourself and unless you keep breaking those barriers you'd better kiss your lifelong dreams goodbye, Mr. I don't need your advice."

He looked at her with a strange mixture of concern and surprise and the second she saw that, she felt the overwhelming need to pat herself in the back. The truth had never been more convenient. He seemed about to refute her words with some mordant quip, yet his lips quivered under the strain. Something twitched in his cheek. "Speak all you must at once. I know that's not where your story ends, am I right?'"

She pressed her breasts against his chest, and touched the tip of her nose to his. "That means you let me hold the reins tonight and be the one to call the shots, unless you feel intimidated, that is."

He ran his hands over the roundness of her little ass before issuing a low threat. "Don't toy with me, girl, just how many times am I going to have to tell you that."

"So that's that eh? The powerful Prince Vegeta can't handle some puny little female unless he's the one doing the handling. He needs to dominate others to feel in power."

"Hush, little one, don't make me punish you." He said biting her lip with calculated softness.

"She placed her palms against his chest and looked into his eyes. "Then prove me wrong…" He looked as imposing as that day he'd fallen on Chikyuu from the depths of space to wipe out humanity. Fire-like spikes flamed to the wind as he regarded her beneath a stern face. That harsh visage was a contrast to how soft she knew his lips were. They were like a delicacy, perfect as if they'd been dreamt by a goddess of pure desire.

"What is it you want." He asked, a dark lock of hair covering his left eye by the force of the breeze.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You'll know by the end of the night." She smiled naughtily and run well manicured fingers over his lips. "For starters, have you ever kissed someone at this height?" His arms tensed at the unforeseen question but his eyes never lost that arrogance.

"I've killed someone at this height, does that count?" The corner of his lip lifted wickedly. To his infinite amazement she didn't bite the bait. Instead she looked at him with big luminous eyes.

"No, it doesn't count."

She opened a small heart locket pendant she'd been wearing around her neck and the fruity smell of its contents seeped slowly into his nostrils. It was strong and mouthwatering, and he witnessed entranced as she moved a fingertip over the balm. She then dabbed it over her lips and they instantly became a glistening shade of pink. Their shape was now completely well-defined even under the silver shower of the moonlight. The woman was certainly full of surprises.

He waited for some sort of cue, a word of command from her viperous mouth, yet all she did was lock the pendant, close her eyes…

And wait.

Bulma knew who she was dealing with. She didn't expect a gallant reaction worthy of a romance movie. This was a warrior not a poet, yet somewhere in her heart, there was still hope for him to take the chance and seize the day. At least that's what she hoped.

Moments dragged by and she slowly began to realize just how emotionally stilted a certain monkey Prince was, in fact, a lot more than she had been able to foresee. She opened an eye and peeked at him. Unbelievable. He was staring at her like she was some strange creature from a forlorn planet.

"This is the part where you…" She saw him frown deeper and just like that she decided she'd cross the line and take him with her. "The part where you do this…" Her lips brushed against his, the tip of her tongue begging for entrance into his succulent mouth. Vegeta cocked his head slightly, holding on to the last little thread of restraint.

"Taste it…" She whispered, knowing fully well it was probably the first time his majesty would experience a strawberry chapstick kiss.

And just like that he felt his knees falter, his hands move of their own volition to hold her tightly as he savored her lips between his. His desire grew against the softness of her body, his tongue played, his mouth sucked, with a golden moon as a mystical backdrop to his need. His breathing was ragged against hers, a sudden need to sink into her heat beginning to toy with his sanity.

Kissing, at this altitude, with a Prince of an alien race was something she sure didn't think she'd ever experience, and this time, even through the coldness and the wind, this time, it was perfect… _absolute in its beauty_.

She could have prolonged the moment, extended it to sublime heights, yet she opted to end the kiss and let it be a teaser for more to come. Step one complete… a little preview for the rest of the night. She pulled her head back and delighted when she saw his head angle forward, his lips tangled with hers until she tore them away.

"What kind of behavior is this?" He grumbled as she turned around and sunk back into his arms.

"What kind of behavior? It's called a kiss, simple and clear and standing on its own. It's an earthling's way of saying you might get lucky later on."

Vegeta trailed the tip of his tongue over her ear, arms surrounding her possessively. "We're heading back now, to our bedroom. I'm going to spread your legs, and I'm going to make you com…"

"No… I said I'd be in control tonight, didn't I? That means you'll have to deal with my Chikyuu-jin ways." Her voice was still sufficiently determined even while moaning halfway through her sentence. Being in charge was a major task to pull while subject to his licking and nibbling.

"Hn". He thought he heard her say something but his hands were too busy exploring her body over her tight dress. "You speak too much…. haven't I told you that…" His palms sweat as they sought a breast, his breath was humid against her skin, and each pump of his heart far apart yet thunderous.

His words were mixed with the distant sound of music, chatter and the squeals of children carried forth by the wind. She squint her eyes and followed the direction of the noise, the tiny tinkle of fairy lights in the distance catching her attention.

"It's the weekend fair… at the park…"

God he was so aroused, she knew his body too well, his movements, the way he resorted to nipping when he was beginning to fall into the pit of desire. He spread his legs to grind his groin against her bottom, fingers fumbling with her breasts and attempting to set them free. His biceps flexed and un-flexed as he touched her all over, his wet lips and hot breath at the base of her chin.

"No… no more… 'Geta…" She feared she'd loose her round if she didn't manage to get it all under control. "That's not exactly how dates in Chikyuu go."

"Dates?" He said, thrown off by the rarity of the word.

"Yes… dates…" She said between a deep inhalation.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He reared his head to clear his thoughts and try to appease his ever raging lust for her.

She smiled and looked longingly ahead. "That means I want to see Moondust park at 12 in the morning…"

--

The plaza seemed to have fallen under an enchantment. It was engulfed in that same magical aura that she remembered from when life was a lot simpler. The gazebo she'd often ran around as a little girl was now lit with tiny white lights and sitting upon it was a jazz band playing an age-old melody. Even though it was late evening, some couples still danced to the slow-paced music and it was evident half of them were seniors who came every weekend to relive precious memories.

The ones who didn't dance sat around the square, their soft murmurs mixing with distant sounds of laughter or the voices of children as they ran in the playground nearby. She smiled when she saw a couple of teenagers painfully trying to get the little ones off the inflatable games so they could fold them up and call it a night. It reminded her of many years ago, when her parents brought her to this very place and she ate cotton candy until her tummy ached.

"This is Chikyuu." She said in a small voice, her eyes wandering over the park in obvious adoration. His warrior instinct compelled him to scan the place and asses each pitiful stranger. It was something he was used to doing every single time he stepped into unknown territory, yet he looked at her intrigued, unable to figure out the actual point of landing in the middle of such a peculiar scenario.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Of course it's Chikyuu. I wasn't expecting Vegita-sei." She could almost sense his discomfort as he stood there, arms crossed and a sour disposition. It was his typical way of setting up a barrier against the outside world but this time it wasn't going to work. She'd do whatever it took to tear down every wall tonight.

Bulma moved to face him, her lips a few whispers away from his. "Damn smart I'd say, but as long as you're here, you might as well benefit from trying to fit in…" Her eyes took in the wild mane crowning his head "…well as much as you're going to fit anyway…"

Vegeta's lip quirked and he glared at her through a thin veil of impatience. "I have no interest in fitting into your species. Your words hold absolutely no meaning to me, nor does this, irritating display of…" His dark daggers darted back and forth over the square. "…vulgarity".

She graced him with a slanted smile. "Don't worry Vegeta, I most definitely won't ask you to dance with me. I know just how much you can do with that body, but somehow I fail to see you as that type." She backed off and offered him a look of teasing femininity. "So taking your extreme "alienness" into consideration, I'd better take care of this part of our date myself."

His thick eyebrows knitted together as he saw her turn around and stride into the square. The mystifying sounds of the instruments had just shifted into a quicker pace and sooner than he'd expected she was there, among the couples, contemplating the entertainers and moving slightly to the beat.

She swayed her hips slowly yet gracefully, with a smooth quality that was almost hypnotizing, and that's when he knew he'd never seen something quite like this before. He'd witnessed the dance of death and the cries of agony. He'd experienced first hand the sinful elegance of a planet exploding into stardust, yet these movements… her waist bending slightly, her hair brushing her back and a hand digging into her deep turquoise hair. This reminded him of her body squirming in bed, of her fingers as they intertwined with the locks of his hair.

His eyes couldn't have left her even if he tried and so they didn't miss when an older couple broke their embrace. The wrinkled old man bowed down at her and took her hand, leading her in slow movements due to his old age. He was grabbing her hands and smiling at her, at his female… and she seemed happy. No, she looked delighted really as she twirled around and laughed in utter merriment. She swayed like a siren, flicking her hair, making it cascade against her body. He could smell her, feel her energy as strongly as if she'd been standing right next to him. Was this a Chikyuu woman? Was this the kind of thing that brought them satisfaction? Could they possibly be content with something so simple...

Vegeta regarded her like a statue, standing with his legs slightly apart and an air of complete severity. He was spellbound by those tiny quirks and the notion that there was so much he still didn't know about her. It was all lulling him into some sort of trance when suddenly something caught his eye. He darted his pupils sideways to observe one of those small creatures, a human child, who was holding on to his mother's hand as he licked some sort of dessert piled atop a cone. Gods he was ugly, freckled and red-haired and wearing enormous glasses the thickness of the windowpane on a space pod. He slurped at the chocolate ball and, for some reason unknown to him, insisted on gracing him with a fixed stare. Vegeta felt his entire body tense with a distinct need to get rid of the bug. He was bothersome to say the least and just what the hell was he looking at?

He exhaled through his nostrils in a conscious effort to appease his id and ignore the twirp. Yet right that moment something insulting and offensive happened… and… what in the seven hells! The brat stuck his tongue out, blew hard and made the most upsetting, irritating sound he'd heard in his entire life. He slurped on his treat some more, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and readjusted his viewing device before laughing like a devil.

Vegeta swallowed hard, grinding his teeth as the all familiar chill of murderous intent crawled over his spine. He tried averting his eyes again and thought he'd forget about the insect… at least that's what he intended to do, yet there was that sound, again! The kid vibrated his tongue at him and he glared back in his direction, giving him the mother of all scowls. His eyes heat up to a supernatural temperature, flashing in the night, and an invisible beam of ki turned the delectable treat the earthling was holding into a molten liquid mess.

It screeched. The brat screamed and he thought his eardrums would explode.

How could this race even stand itself, let alone think about reproducing such puny, whiny pieces of… gods, it was worse than the sound of a possessed banshee. It wasn't only the howls but the horrible face as it wrinkled in contorted misery.

"Kami, Vegeta, that wasn't very nice…" Bulma was suddenly facing him and he actually started. Why hadn't he noticed her approaching? "Can't I leave you alone for a few minutes before you feel compelled to make little angels cry!"

He merely grated his teeth, snarling in disbelief. "Don't go there, or I'll give you what I had in store for that little piece of…"

"Shhhh… for the love of Kami." Bulma thanked the heavens the minute the woman decided to retreat, dragging a very loud, squirming son behind and trying desperately to hush his wails.

She grabbed his bicep and pulled him delicately towards a table at the very back of the plaza to an area that bordered the gardens.

"You're raising your voice and I don't want to call any unnecessary attention." She looked around noticing how a few other couples still danced the night away, one or two sitting on secluded benches under the night blooming jasmines.

"Unnecesary attention?" He hissed. "Unnecesary attention is you bolting into the middle of that square and putting on a show for the rest of the viewers while half naked."

Bulma placed her palms flat against his chest, pushing him into an ornate seat. "I am not half naked and the guy I was dancing with was half blind if that's your main concern. Do you want to stamp your royal seal on my ass or something to put your mind at ease?"

"Stop daring me." He grated, not realizing he was suddenly sitting on the white chair.

"Why do I actually believe you'd do something like that…" She blew upwards, her bangs fluttering slightly and falling down in disarray. He was about respond with a phrase worthy of her poison when he felt her weight sitting on his lap and her legs tucking under his own.

His eyes widened. "What… "

Bulma smiled and whispered in his ear. "No one's watching us…" His entire body had gone tense, muscles hard, as she shifted in his lap. They both watched as the jazz band announced the last tune of the day in the middle of the scattered applauses from the few gathered. "This is a Chikyuu-jin ritual…" she explained, her voice as soft as the breeze around them. "It's a step after the dance, and a move before what we usually do when we're alone." His palms had balled into fists and even though he was quiet she could feel his discomfort. She was sure he was overwhelmingly uneasy, pushed out of his comfort zone to the extreme. It was the result of a life devoid of anything resembling the pleasures of regular dating.

She repositioned herself over him to slide a dainty arm around his shoulders and glide a palm over the muscles of his chest. Her fingers moved up and up until they grazed the side of his chin and her thumb found his lips, brushing over them as lightly as a feather. "You know, if you think about it, Saiyans may have had something like this as well… things males and females do that don't necessarily involve tossing around under the sheets. You probably never realized it because you didn't have a chance to grow up in your world. There was no way for you to know."

He had been staring elsewhere but he suddenly turned his head back to look into her eyes. There was puzzlement in his midnight gaze. "I don't like riddles…"

She gave him a wicked smile and leaned forward, licking his lower lip in earnest. "Well how about I explain it to you, or better yet, demonstrate it? This particular phase is called "making out"."

He grunted as her slender fingers snuck under the collar of his shirt and curled around his back. "Making what?"

She chuckled softly and nibbled at his lips. "Open your mouth 'Geta…" Her words were whispers, the kind you hear in the most decadent part of a wet dream… the type he'd fantasized over when he was nothing but a fourteen year old toiling with Saiyan hormones.

Bulma didn't know what he'd do. She really hadn't thought too deeply about this part. She was merely acting upon instinct, taking him as far out as possible to play the game according to her rules and regulations. She'd bowed to touch him deeply, to make him experience the reality of what it meant to be human and she sure wasn't going to bail out now. There was too much satisfaction in seeing him experience them for the first time ever.

She felt the sweet taste of victory the moment a big, warm hand smoothed over her thigh and squeezed it gently. His mouth surrendered to her lips and his touch got lost under the hem of her dress. Such a quick learner… so smart.

He sucked and tasted her sugar, drinking with the passion he always used when kissing her in bed. There was no denying he wanted her and he did so fiercely. Yet he tore the fervent kiss and breathed raggedly against her cheek. "What's the point of this… do you want me to take you here in full view of others?"

She sighed into his mouth, sneaking her tongue inside and savoring him. "No… that's the whole idea, getting as far as possible without going all the way. Doing something forbidden to build up the heat and have it explode later."

"Quit talking like you're about to orgasm, you're not helping." He said between licks. "I still don't see the point of "building any more heat" as you put it." He was engorged and she could feel it pressing against her hip, the entire length of his manhood becoming solid hard.

"It's almost like making love with your clothes on, can you do that or is it something you can't handle?" She was baiting him and he knew that, but he couldn't quite care less. He could rise to meet any challenge she threw at him easily, and this shouldn't be any different. She was testing his control while placing him under her witchcraft and he almost considered dumping her for her insolence. But her mouth tasted so sweet, and she was such an amazing fuck he couldn't pass on the chance of doing her tonight. Low and vulgar sure made a good bedmate. Those were his thoughts as he squeezed her body and kissed her chin…and beyond.

"Stop wandering to my neck… you're one step away of pulling my clothes off." She said in a feverish whine. "Vegeta…"

He nipped and licked all the way back to her mouth, thrusting his need forward to sooth it against her body. "Pointless… pointless… " His hand grabbed her waist and his other one snuck under her blue green tresses to cup the base of her skull.

Bulma seriously considered straddling him, but that would have basically meant doing him in public, and even though the thought proved more than enticing, it would defeat the whole purpose of teaching him what a makeout session was. God, but his hands were roving with such expertise, handling her like a doll he wanted to have his way with. "Vegeta…" She moaned… as he lowered his head to her neck once more, nibbling and sucking. "No…no… don't…" her lips sought his again and she began drinking out of him with such madness she thought she'd drain him dry.

"Oh …g.. god." She began arching into his arms, one hand lifting the edge of his shirt and snaking its way under the waistline of his pants.

He groaned and raised the hem of her dress until he reached her panties and attempted a pull down. He fumbled with the flimsy garment and exhaled into her mouth. _No.. this man wasn't safe enough to do this with_, she through as his finger slid inside her heat to test her waters. Bulma jolted in place and grabbed at the last thread of her sanity before losing all dreams of control. "No… not here…"

"No… No…it's all you've said all night long. I swear if I hear that word one more time I'll lose my temper girl…" He rasped, grinding his sensitized package against her.

Bulma reared a very flustered face to look around and realized they were in real danger of being caught any minute. She directed wide blue eyes at him, took in his very pissed off expression and decided she wanted third base, desperately. She pulled away from his embrace, stood up, and ushered a shaky little whisper. "Come over…"

She tiptoed into the darkness, between tall birch trees that lined the river. He followed her with an odd discomfort between his thighs. There was a cruel pull at his groin that he could feel every step of the way and it forced him to walk more than a little bit funny.

The place was darker, hidden from the view of any other human around, or so it seemed. The soft murmur of the water and the rustle of the leaves seemed the only companion to the pounding he felt in his ears.

Bulma walked a fine line, knowing just how dangerous toying with a heated Saiyan could be, yet the idea of missing this chance was too much for her. Heavy petting in a public place seemed like a lesson she'd be more than happy to teach her "master".

She turned around to face him and… gasped. Her breath literally caught in her throat and her jaw dropped. "Veg…Vegeta." He stood there paralyzed, looking at her dumbfounded. What the hell was the matter with her?

She opened her mouth once more "W--what's…" Her eyes never left his as she studied him for what seemed like ages. Thankfully, slowly but surely fear began giving way to fascination which was definitely a more comfortable feeling to experience. She approached him, extending her fingers to graze his face ever so delicately. "What's happening to you?"

Vegeta frowned in confusion catching the hand she was touching him with. "What are you talking about? Nothing's…"

Something was different.

Yes, he could feel it, his heart pumped stronger, each beat drumming distinctively and reverberating in his chest. He didn't think about it, he merely looked at the sky in a sudden attempt to determine whether his suspicions were correct. "It's a full moon." He said in a simple voice. His frown deepened… no wonder she was so taken aback. It was the beast in him, the shadow of the Oozaru that still peered forth during nights of full moon.

"Your eyes, they glow in the dark like the eyes of dogs or…or wolves." She was positively transfixed, her lips quivering slightly as she spoke.

He lowered his jaw and looked at her with those penetrating eyes and their sheer intensity. "It's the vestige of my animal form. The reflective retinas of the beast's eyes allow me to have night vision as an ape." She felt suspended in air, staring into the predator-like irises in utter amazement. Her lips parted, as she concentrated on studying such unbelievable transformation. It wasn't only the eyes…

Her fingers trailed their way to his incisors and felt their sharpness; they'd grown slightly pointier, giving him a very animalistic appearance.

He slid his tongue over a newly acquired fang and grimaced, feeling a pang of humiliation wash over him. Why did he suddenly feel so inadequate, like a creature of the night fighting the urge to skulk back in the darkness? He'd felt like royalty up until now, like a man about to have his way with what was his but she was now positively terrorized.

Distraught? Disgusted. Yes, she was probably disgusted.

Her eyes were riddles as they wandered over him as if he were some beastly apparition brought forth from the depths of hell itself.

He gnashed his teeth and fought a revolting sensation when he felt the change in his throat. It was definitely going to turn his voice graver, like a growl. "I hate…" He stopped at the sound of his own words and how foreign and echoey they sounded in his ears. "I never necessarily liked the idea of being a werecreature. But the rush of power, the feel of such monstrous strength flowing through my veins…"

She dropped her arm to her side and looked at him with an indecipherable expression, and that's when he knew…. she had won the round; She would reject him and turn her nose at him in repugnance. It was the perfect chance for her to pull out and refuse to lay with someone she considered an abomination inside out. And she was Chikyuu-jin after all, weak yet flawless in her frailty, soft like a petal and delicate as if she'd been spun from sugar. Prim and proper… _Bulma _was it? Princess of her own world and about to kick him in the groin. The bitch. Served him well. What the hell had he been thinking all along? Had this night somehow managed to fool him into believing… what? That she wasn't who she was and he wasn't himself either?

She kept looking at him wide-eyed "I'd never seen such a thing. Does it last all night?"

"And what the hell is it to you'" He snapped, "Does it hurt your human sensibilities?" his tone was harsh and unyielding, a preternatural rumble that was enough to raise her hairs on end.

She backed into a tree and leaned against it, not once taking her eyes off the otherworldly spectacle he'd become. He looked dangerous, menacing, pissed off and inhuman. But above all he looked… beautiful, like a creature of wanton. She swallowed hard and reveled in the look of his eyes, the flames of his tousled hair, Kami, could anything be this mesmerizing? Was there ever someone this fascinating? It held her under arrest, made her tether on a fine thread between insanity and reason…

Vegeta approached her slowly, pressed his body against hers and looked at her haughtily. "See something you hate" He snarled, ready to give her one last good scare before taking off into the night and reassessing his entire Ki situation. For the first time he seriously considered whoring around as a possible way of easing his frustration. That's all he was used to having anyway, wasn't it? Whores. What the hell had he been thinking?

She ground her teeth and regarded him with that same unsettling look of nothingness, and Vegeta growled one last time, before pulling away.

"Third base… do you know what that is?"

He was beginning to turn around but paused in mid motion, twisting his neck to glower at her. "Third…"

Bulma issued a slanted smile and pulled a strap down to bare a shoulder, then the other one, and the cleavage opened wider to reveal the upper half of her breasts. He froze, his pupils sliding slowly down her chest until they rested on the hardened nubs that had popped partially into view.

"Will you say something, or would you rather I showed you?" She teased rubbing herself against the trunk of the tree. "Are you going to put your paws on me?"

He grunted in derision as his eyes raked her body. He wanted to bolt yet, oh the smell of her sex was strong, like some sort of forbidden nectar. Was it possible she wanted him still? The beast in him roared and banged inside his chest, suddenly desperate to drink her in and assuage his lowest needs.

Her arms were drawn back as she grabbed the tree, looking at him like a little bitch in heat. It was all he remembered before the taste of her skin, the feeling of her body squeezed against the trunk of the tree. His hands raised her dress enough for him to grab her bottom and knead it softly as his pointy fangs grazed her neck ever so slightly.

"Yyes…" she purred when he dipped his head lower to grab the fullness of a breast in his mouth and suckle at it. Doing this had never felt so lewd with previous boyfriends, especially with Yamcha who had been nothing but gentle and kind. Kami, why was it she liked it so rough? Why would she rather fuck an animal? What was wrong with her?

Her hand unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly so she could slip a hand inside and cup his warmth. It was already moist and throbbing and she couldn't help but feel a thrill run down her spine. Her other hand grabbed his fingers and placed them between her thighs. Yes… this is what she wanted, and only he could give it to her, no one else.

She smiled against the spikes of his hair when she felt him catch the idea and two of his fingers began moving inside out. In… out as she moved her hand up and down over his shaft.

"Spread your legs…" He growled against her humid skin.

"Is there anyone there?"

Bulma tensed immediately and he felt her muscles clench against his fingers.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

She breathed against his face. "Shit, it's a policeman..."

The short man in uniform adjusted his glasses and ventured between the bushes in the direction he thought he'd heard the voices come from. He seldom encountered real trouble during his rounds but it wasn't unusual to run into teenagers doing things they definitely shouldn't be doing. It seemed this was one of those nights. Right behind that tree…

Bulma clenched her jaw in panic, her heart fluttering inside her breast. "Vegeta…"

He ground his teeth in response. Dammit.

"There… I knew I'd heard something… huh?" The man stared wide-eyed at the darkness ahead, the beam of his flashlight projecting itself infinitely over the area where he thought he'd find the scoundrels. He moved the light around, back and forth until he was sure he'd scan the area well enough. Perhaps it was the sound of the river or the whisper of the wind. Who knew. He simply scratched his head and retreated, vowing to seriously consider retiring for once and for all. This job was beginning to toy with his nerves.

"pffft" Bulma shook her head to make Vegeta remove his hand from covering her mouth. They hovered up above next to the top of the enormous tree.

"And just why is it we came here again? Why don't you remind me." He said bitingly. Her heartbeat was just beginning to normalize as she breathed against his shoulder. His arms held her securely, but she knew the embrace hid a strenuous sense of sexual frustration. That idea served to pull her out from her haze and reorder her thoughts.

Now that she realized just how fast they were going, it was easy to see how it was a good thing they had almost been caught. The night wasn't over yet and if she wanted things to go her way, she had to put her hormones under control. "Vegeta, I think it's been enough of fooling around…" She stated, not oblivious to the double entendre of her words. "I think we should move forward."

"Damn glad you're done testing my patience. I think we have something we need to finish." He said zipping up his pants and beginning to fly eastbound, in the direction of Capsule Corporation. Typical, she thought. Another night of raw, earth shattering sex under the Prince's mighty rule. Not tonight. After all, this whole warm up phase was over. He was hot and very bothered and all he could think about was sinking into her and appeasing his desires. That meant he was vulnerable.

"Wait, I don't want to go back home." He began tensing up and she knew he was about to start cursing. "Before you go wild on me, let me finish. I want us to… do all we want to do, but I want it to be every bit as loud as it used to be before my parents barged in."

He looked at her in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"It means I want to scream." She said against his lips. He exhaled through his nostrils and held her tighter.

"Then I'll take you to the top of the highest mountain, I'll fly you to the fucking moon if need be so you can scream your lungs out, as long as it's now. Don't toy with me, not tonight."

God, he was gonna be livid when he realized what she was driving him into. "I have a better idea, and it involves the comfort and luxuries of the best penthouse in town."

He frowned in poorly concealed impatience. "Speak at once."

"I'll show you how to get to the most expensive hotel in West Capital, and more specifically the top floor, where the Capsule Corporation presidential suite is." She smiled at him. "It's nothing short of great, believe me."

"It can be a shack as long as you fulfill your duties." He muttered, already beginning to increase his speed as they flew over the city lights.

Bulma swallowed hard and held on. _Her_ terms, _her_ night. It was the moment to unearth every truth and find out who Vegeta truly was. Memories of so many times being his victim, of being used and controlled were enough to give her the determination she needed… and God knew she wanted to make him pay. So this was it, Prince Vegeta was going to face punishment.

Bulma of Chikyuu would be the perpetrator.

A/N: Chapter 10 is a thunderous showdown… Do I smell lemons? (Hangs head in shame)


	10. Hold Him Prisoner

**Disclaimer:** DBZ belongs to its rightful owners. Not making profit, only drooling over a certain bad man.

**Warning:** This chapter contains very strong language, so please don't say I didn't warn you. Some pretty pissed off characters here.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

By Caprice

Chapter 10

Step 11 - Hold him Prisoner

Three weeks. Three weeks since that night on the suite… since a breaking point that haunted her night and day… weeks of life being so infinitely different. And now… now she gazed at a stranger in the mirror, and the stranger was no other than her.

"My God… you are a VISION." Came the high pitched voice, every word clearly enunciated. Kassidy's arms gestured gracefully while appreciating the sight before him… her… him. Bulma still had a bit of difficulty when referring to that whirlwind who aided her when in need of SERIOUS assistance in the fashion department. He had been appointed her personal stylist by her mother herself, queen of status and elegance in the highest spheres of society, yet it'd be unfair to reduce his relevance to that mere fact.

He'd earned Bulma's respect through painstaking years standing in the backstage of her life, pins pressed between his lips and tape measure flung around his dainty neck. He'd been there, before, during and after formals of every kind, cocktails, parties, luaus - you name it - making sure she always looked nothing less than absolutely spectacular. Impeccable really, in the benefit of the cameras, the audience, or whoever was gathered for the event… but mostly in the benefit of herself.

He'd voiced her opinions for her in the form of gauze and lamé, transformed her into a living breathing art piece with a trace of the baroque. Ah, the sultriness and extravagance of it all, of a woman who'd let her body tell the tale through the boldness of her clothes and the way she moved. A silent call and a beautiful protest, tacit messages of sweet desperation from a soul burdened by a destiny to fulfill… to morph into the absolutely perfect empress of the mighty corporation. Yes, it was a gross contrast to her surroundings, a subtle rebellion in its own way… too much skin, too much hair, and yet, all in all mostly, simply… her.

So he took his job seriously, Kassidy, an interpreter of sorts. He was the official and flamboyant peddler of grand couturiers such as Valentino and Galliano and knew exactly what season, catalog or collection any particular pair of Blahnik's belonged to. Hell, he even knew the difference between ciel and baby blue, or matte and semi-matte. His pretty bag was so full of shimmer, color and still to be released tubes of juicy makeup it was enough for any normal living breathing female to have a heart attack. That and complete, unhidden arrogance were the reasons he didn't let anyone near the thing with what he referred to as "unworthy hands".

And so tonight he stood there, in that same stance he always adopted when studying the latest canvas that was Bulma Brief's incarnate, taking in what she had morphed into, the ensemble he had managed to pull together within days of her call and the specs given. And it was a challenge too! That task many people would consider shallow and inconsequential but which actually required true knowledge and refinement to pull off; creating that one look that would make the turquoise and cream palette that was the daughter of the President of the CC, the undisputable goddess of the night.

"I look like a glacial bitch with the sexual appeal of a nun and the sense of fashion of my late grandmother." Bulma stated, no inflection to her voice. She raised her chin a bit, twisting to the sides in a haughty posture. Harsh words, yet a tiny smirk began to stretch her perfectly and neutrally colored lips, no daring rouges or sensual dark tones to make them voluptuous or sinfully suggestive. "It's perfect…"

"Of courrse it is" Kassidy said in a tone that reeked of – oh silly as if you expected ANYTHING less of me. "It's serious and elegant, perfectly cool and dignified. Everything you need to make this night every bit as… _different_ as you want it to be." His voice quivered a little towards the end, the gale of emotions that had been contained behind those big expressive eyes striving to burst through any second now. Bulma sighed internally, already bracing herself for what was sure to come. She knew Kass all to well, and even though he'd been working like a slave all day, directing and supervising the performance of the throng of makeup and hair artists with his usual rococo character, he was probably about to burst at the seams now.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him, for once abandoning the reflection on the lustrous full-body mirror of her ample room. "Alright… come one, let me have it."

"Ookay" His nose started reddening and his eyes watering, "It's colorless, dull and mind numbingly boring, there I said it. It's got nothing to do with my usual style, I mean…" He snatched a perfumed tissue from a Kleenex box and blew his nose noisily all the while gesturing wildly with his right hand. "Where are the daring rich colors, the reds and the blacks, or the luscious lip gloss that would go amazingly well with that daring Versace I had been saving for your next big occasion? I had to pull that meringue nightmare from the depths of my studio and cry my eyes out as I fitted it to your size. And yeah, it took a hell of a lot of margaritas to put my creative conscience at ease. Happy?" He sniffled into the scented napkin looking at Bulma with eyes full of melodrama.

Bulma smiled sincerely, the sheer simplicity of the gesture lighting her features to the likes of an angel. It had an immediate soothing effect on Kass, for there was nothing she couldn't achieve by letting her warmth show through that tiny gesture, and it was a treat to see her eyes twinkle on the axis of such spontaneity. Yes, perhaps her most haunting feature was her smile.

"Meringue nightmare? You know better than to call it that." She pinned her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, her eyes still gentle and appeasing. "You know it's beautiful. Granted, not in the way you are used to, but beautiful nevertheless. As much as it is somewhat dull compared to what you normally wrap me into, you totally succeeded at what I asked of you, which was creating something… you know… something…" She began moving her hand delicately as if trying to conceive the right word to describe the remarkable ensemble draped around her. "Sober. Something… sober." Bulma's face changed slightly at the sound of her own voice, as if coming to a mournful realization. It looked like a tiny amount of sorrow, yet it came and went like waves of foam washing upon a beach.

Kass shook his head and started stashing makeup, accessories and all sorts of tubes, sprays and balms into his bag.

"You know, the funny thing is, even though this is not what I normally do and I just can't make my peace with whatever this is supposed to mean, I have never seen you look quite this beautiful." He lifted his gaze to her, placing a fashionable hat over the sweep of blonde and black that was his hair. He tossed a purple scarf around his shoulders and sighed deeply before striding towards the door. "Yet you neglect the magic, the sheer possibilities, burgundy lace, dark purple and black chiffon hugging those glorious curves you were lucky to be endowed with. I just don't see it love. I just don't know what happened to long luscious curls around bare shoulders or bold cleavages that turned the party upside down. What the hell are they supposed to talk about now? The stock market?"

Bulma turned back to stare hard at the mirror, no emotion whatsoever betraying her stern demeanor. "I would stay here and talk sense into you but I still have to go put the finishing touches on that gorgeous blue silk dress your mother's wearing tonight. I swear nothing suits her like Cavalli." He whispered, for once beaming dreamily as he closed the door behind him.

She didn't really notice him leave, so distraught in her own little world she'd suddenly become. Something nailed her to the carpet, all motor functions lost to some strange and incomprehensible reason. It was a feeling of all-encompassing numbness, this black hole… a vacuum slowly devouring her insides until there seemed to be nothing left.

She felt every bit as she looked, cold and detached, like an ice queen standing in the midst of her own wintery aura. The absolutely beauty of the vision before her, of that flawless reflection on the mirror was impossible to deny, there was no use being modest. She had never possessed such a statuesque appearance, such air of superiority that could only belong to a mythical goddess. It was as if she weren't even human, but an ethereal vision that had materialized into this world to walk amongst mortals for the length of a night.

There was nothing out of place, nothing that wasn't infinitely controlled and perfected in the divine poetry that was her look. From the sheer, matte makeup that made her skin as smooth as velvet to the hair which was done in a modest and refined updo. It was the epitome of serene and aristocratic, two tiny diamond earrings shimmering on her earlobes as modest preamble to the stunning yet demure creation that was her dress. It had a covered chest with a design of elegant simplicity before it fell to the floor in a cascade of white organza. An angel? A white, impeccable angel who was missing nothing but a set of wings or the perfectly poised master of her own corporate empire? Quiet the pointless question as all that mattered was the effect, the purpose.

Indeed Kass was right; she would have never in a million years worn something like this. But then that was… _before_. True, it was a direct contrast to that suggestive style she liked to taunt with, the kind of stuff that pushed people's buttons and had them talking all night long. Yet time had come for that turning point in her life. By God, how long could anyone hide? It had taken her three weeks to arrive to this definitive conclusion, that running away from what she truly was expected to be could only represent the path to her ultimate destruction.

She would not stray from that train of thought now. Reckless abandonment, toying with the system, an over-indulgence in extreme sports of the sexual kind, it was all an avoidance of a much bitter reality. No… she was supposed to be smart and sensible, collected and reasonable. No dumb shit, no screwed up shit. She couldn't hide from what the world expected, could she? And the world now waited.

Three weeks. They had been enough to make her conform to the norm, to morph into his swanlike vision of hard beauty and cold power that betrayed no trace of what she used to be. That crazy girl, crushed under an unhealthy infatuation with a master of wicked desire and spellbinding moves. Crazy… completely crazy, doing the unthinkable under the covers, falling to her knees to worship him fully, entirely, with hands and nails and a more than an eager tongue. His skin all she wanted to wear, his voice all she wanted to hear as she lost herself deeper and deeper beneath the cruel pull of his presence.

She saw the image on the mirror wince for a split second, that expression of sharp pain giving her pulchritudinous appearance the semblance of humanity. Something stung at the back of her eyeballs, little needles that heralded tears, but she bit her lip, swallowing all emotion. No, not tonight. NOT tonight.

She walked closer to the mirror, making her unearthly presence fill it entirely yet she couldn't really see herself. It was him, him again. He exploded into her mind. His eyes, deep and torturous like raging storms from a merciless hurricane. Lips so full, soft and sensuous they trailed fire on her white skin and made her tremble in desire. Hands so sinful, so full of malice they spun magic in bed, over the kitchen table, on the bathroom tiles, against the wall… whatever surface he'd wanted to take her on. God, they were… they were strong and big and masculine, just like him, like EVERY single part of him.

Vegeta. The subject of her epiphany, yet again.

And what did she have now, what had she been left with after sleeping with the enemy? The scent of him, thoughts of him, and his image sketched on a thousand pages by her fierce hand.

She was perfectly beautiful; for once in her life looking the part of a serious heiress who was ready to preside over a company cocktail party. Yes, everything ready at the enormous and opulent dome to host a night of inane chatter overlooking the city lights. And still all she could think about was him. The smooth planes of a face so alien in its beauty she had lain watching him sleep for hours on end. Locks of hair so wild and rebellious her fingers tingled at the chance to sift through them. And they felt like silk, strong smooth silk as she held them while he played forbidden games with the hidden regions of her body.

She wanted him. Right here, right now. She wanted him to fly into her room, double her over and fuck her from behind clad in his armor. She wanted him to punish her for all her sins and to tell her exactly what to do and when to do it. To let her know just when she was allowed to cum, the secret, twisted and completely depraved things he whispered in her ear when he was doing her ruthlessly. How filthy he was. How bad. Yes, she wanted it all.

She ground her teeth, long lashes fluttering as she pressed her thighs together to squander the sudden thirst for her own personal drug. It was cruel and painful, merciless as it bit at her womb like a voracious creature that knew no restraint. It crashed against her, making her feel little and pathetic, compounding with the agonizing pain inside her chest that never ceased to throb since… since then.

She had been wringing the folds of her dress, lost in the shambles of her interior which were so adeptly concealed by such marvelous looks. Her gloriousness the perfect façade to conceal the bitter turmoil that now whirled about in the murky waters of her soul. Loss, so deep, SO scarring her heart felt like it was being torn in half, like she was being mutilated savagely with the rusty blade of a knife. It was an inconceivable pain, mixed with that unsurpassable sexual desire that had threatened to rob her of all reason. The usual combination, except it was now tenfold, because life was different, because the world now spun backwards.

Ever since what trespassed three weeks ago.

Her eyes danced upon her image but she couldn't recognize herself anymore. All she could see was a stranger with her features, sneering at her for her current weakness, mocking her for standing there looking like royalty yet lost to the slavery of her emotions. And it was right there and then, when faced with the gust of remembrance that she lowered her head and exhaled sharply, eyes clenched in pain. Memories won the battle over composure and she felt that all too familiar feeling of ice wrapping around her spine. A moment of weakness… not now.

Yes, memories from that evening crashed against her skull violently…Blood, so much blood, by god, and sex, and pain… and hatred, pure and whole. Enough to last her a lifetime.

-- x --

The banging on the doors… it was loud and unbearable and dammit, it wasn't helping! Bulma slid to the CC presidential suite's luxurious foyer hurriedly, hands trembling slightly as she pressed her back to the wall. She pursed her lips and stared ahead through troubled eyes. Couldn't they just leave her alone? So the lights were flickering on and off in the entire 30 floors, big deal! She would find a way to remedy that situation if they'd just let her do her thing and…

Banging, again, fretful and insistent and making her jolt in place. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, her heart beating furiously against her ribcage as if attempting to escape right through it. She seriously deserved this, she thought, a sudden veil of panic descending on what had been a pretty determined mindset up until the moment things went wild. I mean, who the hell in the entire planet dared taunt a big bad animal that was perfectly capable of tearing you to bite size pieces. Who'd tamper with a powerhouse that possessed enough voltage in his little finger to make the entire globe blow up in a spectacle of light and dust? Seriously, who was that deranged and twisted and masochistic. Go ahead, poke that vicious and completely unpredictable alien warrior devil prince why don't you? So Chikyuu risked exploding into a million pieces, who caared? It was only the entire world, nothing to mourn or fret about or anything. She'd just kill herself again in the afterlife to relieve the bitter guilt of it all. Oh but Bulma had to have her fix didn't she… she just HAD to play with a dangerous intergalactic rogue and…

"Mr. and Mrs. Briefs?? Bulma Briefs? Is anyone there??"

"Shit." She said simply, staring at the doors with a sour expression. The filaments in the light fixtures buzzed horribly as the lights flickered on and off yet again.

"….no use, come on Joe, just bust down the damn door." Came the muffled command.

"Wait!" Bulma sprung forward, long flowing see through black robe fluttering in her haste. She swung down the intricate golden door handle and gazed out at the woman who stood outside, a big black man towering behind her.

They stared at her with eyes as wide as dishes, the woman's chubby fist frozen in mid air as she'd obviously been prepared to swing it hard against the thick wooden doors. Bulma was half naked, one of those flimsy bras that were meant to be worn for about five minutes before being torn off the only thing covering her chest. The rest amounted to nothing but a tiny matching panty and so it just suddenly occurred to her how naked she was. Super freaking awesome night! She merely mumbled a few curses before glaring murder at the intruders and grabbing her robe around her. It did little cover her impudent appearance; long voluptuous hair framing her blushing cheeks.

"What!" She spat.

"Mmmmiss Briefs! I ah, I…" The little woman stammered. She cleared her throat against her fist and readjusted the heavy rims of her glasses. "I didn't see you arrive through the lobby. This is quite a surprise, a pleasant one nevertheless, please don't get me wrong, we just weren't expecting you."

"Oh come on Margherite" She replied smoothly, attempting to ease the other woman's anxieties. "I landed on the heliport, can't a girl make a discreet entrance? Now what is it that brings you knocking on my door at this hour? I believe there's no need for such…"

"Woman! You……. gaaah! Fuuuck!!"

They all pretended they hadn't heard a thing, the tremendous roar coming forth from the depths of the opulent suite a huge dissonance to their otherwise civil exchange. "Um… need for such, uh, vigorous knocking." Bulma smiled shakily, taking in the bewildered expression on the hotel administrator's face and the security guard who stood attentive.

"I … oh that does make sense I suppose. It's just not your usual style but still, as stated, we are very pleased to have you around. The suite has been adequately kept to meet your usual requirements. I really do hope you find it to your…"

"Bitch! Agh, Gods!"

Margherite stared at Bulma dumbfounded, yet the heiress remained oddly unfazed, huge blue eyes wide in expectancy but seeming all together, pretty ok.

"…liking, and as always, I welcome you to West Plaza, we…" The lights zinged again, and the entire hallway blacked out for a good few second before the light fixtures buzzed back to normalcy. The woman's expression changed abruptly and her courteous manners melted away under unhidden annoyance. "Uh, ok…I am sorry but is everything alright? We couldn't help but notice certain…………. disturbances that seem to be emanating from the penthouse. Is it some sort of experiment we don't know about?"

Bulma pressed her lips into a thin line, inwardly cringing at the tremendous array of insults that were now being uttered from within the apartment in what sounded like a completely alien dialect. Just what the hell was a _foiaka? Aie! Foiaka! sataeya antiann foiaka!_ He repeated, over and over again, with a voice so deafening the walls seemed to shake. Well, she supposed she really didn't need a Saiyan-English translator or anything of the sort to imagine what it all meant. Words of love? She didn't think so.

"Listen here Margherite" Bulma whispered harshly, inching forward and feeling her patience begin to fray. "I really don't have time for this right now, so I'll just have to be blunt. You should freaking get out of here right this second and take big Joe there with you before you're sorry. Now, before you start stuttering your concerns about the health and safety of the building and its guests, let me put your mind and ease. Don't worry about the hotel or anything of the sort, I have it all under control, or at least I will if you'd just let me do my thing and get the hell out of my sight. Every single second is precious, you hear me? Precious."

Both members of staff blinked.

Bulma bent sideways to open the tiny drawer of a side table and produce an impressive wad of money. "So tell me Margherite, do you have grandchildren?"

Margherite opened her mouth, yet remained mute.

"Yeah, I am sure you do. Little Johnny and little Susie or something along those lines. Big sparkling eyes and cute little faces. Am I right?"

"It's actually Matt and Amy…"

"Who cares" Bulma cut in, on the vortex of exasperation with the stuttering woman. "I mean… that's really not the issue is it? Because there'll be no one to remember their names if you don't back off right now and go on your merry way. Do you want Susie to grow up, get married and live happily ever after? Huh? Do you?"

"Amy…"

"Whatever"

The woman raised her eyebrows looking fearful. "Well… yes, I sure do I…"

Bulma extended her arm and basically shoved the roll of money her way. "Yes, I thought so. So why don't you take this little sample of my appreciation and let me handle the situation. For the kids."

Margherite took the generous offering still looking more than a little confounded. Big Joe only frowned, quirking an eyebrow in full appreciation of the green pack of a couple thousand zeni.

"Miss Briefs, this really isn't necessary…." She started.

Bulma sighed. "Just take the fucking money, honey. I got a big thing on my hands, believe me. And that big thing is certainly difficult to handle."

"Oh so it IS an experiment, how delightful!" Beamed the woman, all of a sudden a lot chipper thanks to the infallible effect of sweaty cash. It sure was a generous gift. "Is it something totally new?"

"Uhu, yeah. It's totally out of this world." Bulma muttered before slamming the door in their faces. She strode across the carpeted halls in the direction of the lush creamy interiors of the bedroom, her movements so swift her hair moved with the rush of air, face glowing in complete determination. She cursed every step of the way; every sense heightened and attuned to the particular energy emissions a certain body was producing.

She had to temper her nerves. This was no time to get all shaky and loose her advantage. That's what she told herself as she stood in the hallway outside the room, lifting a needle and a tiny bottle of special tranquilizing serum that was enough to put ten elephants to sleep. She sucked in the solution with the syringe, pushed the plastic end in and saw the crystalline liquid that had been perfectly concocted for this very moment squirt upwards.

And weapon in hand, she strode into the jaw dropping scenario that was the Victorian suite, all draped in gossamer and lace, chandeliers glittering on the ceiling and an enormous four poster bed planted against the far wall. She always had to contain the slightest gasp when she came to this place, so tastefully decorated it looked like something out of a French palace. It was all white and pristine, a testimony to human opulence that contrasted sharply with the body of a male completely clad in black.

He stood there in the middle, looking like a proud demon even though his hands were manacled behind his back by invisible rings of energy. His body had been immobilized from the knees down, feet planted to the floor by a force shield that projected down from a round chrome contraption in the roof… the one he hadn't seen as she led him to the spot. Perfectly attuned to his particular Ki signal, utterly genius.

She smirked as she stood in the doorway, looking at the gorgeous creature that breathed harshly through his nostrils. His sensuous lips were pressed tightly together, and he appeared to be gathering as much power as he could in order to free himself from such a humiliating ordeal. When he thought he'd amassed enough of it he pulled and pulled at his unresponsive arms, his torso bending as he struggled to be free while failing miserably for the umpteenth time in the last hour or so. God knew he was tireless and the massive amounts of power he was emitting in his task were beginning to make the entire electrical circuitry of the place, perhaps even the entire district, suffer in its wake.

Bulma twiddled the syringe between her index and middle finger, taking in how sweaty he'd become in his endeavors. Tanned skin luminous and damp, breathing ragged and eyes… was there a way to accurately describe those eyes? He lifted them to her, an odd red tint to the irises which was probably yet another effect of the rise of the full moon. His fangs were still slightly sharper than usual and his vocal chords had acquired the odd reverberation of a beast's.

He continued looking at her, sending her a positively infernal smirk that was meant to freeze anyone's blood. They promised murder and destruction and were evidence that he'd resorted to sheer psychological intimidation in response to his physical binding. Diabolical really, eyes glaring venomous daggers that spoke pure hatred.

"Ah ah ah" She said, smiling. "It's not going to work Prince." She walked in and grabbed a previously poured glass of Cristal before touching it to her lips. "I strongly suggest you stop that stupid little tantrum of yours. No one here can hear you, and no one gives a rat's ass for that matter."

He laughed that throaty chuckle that had made her wet so many times in bed and leveled his eyes to hers. "Cunt"

Bulma threw her head back and downed the glass at once before banging it down on the little table. "Uhu, you bet. Keep them coming, I love it when you talk dirty to me. In fact in only makes me hotter."

Bingo, there it was, that startled look of actual defeat across his face. She riled in it.

"Now… come on, soo much drama, as if a little restraint ever harmed anyone. Haven't you learned a thing or two about relaxation these past weeks? God, anyone would think you're actually scared of me." She lifted an eyebrow and pursed her plump red lips. His eyes only grew darker, like black flames of death.

She let her thumb slide suggestively over the rim of the glass. "As you probably know… I can't quite let you put me in such a compromising position, meaning, if you don't decide to behave like a good little boy I'll have no choice but to make you do so. So why don't you just tell me what it's going to be…" Bulma's voice was both sultry and harsh. "Are you going to behave and make this easy or are you gonna act like a complete fucking asshole?"

Vegeta looked at her down his nose, the flames of the fireplace inside the room making a fang glint. He mouthed the words "fuck you" before giving her a snide little smile.

Bulma refused to be affected by his trademark arrogance. "Fuck me? I wouldn't be so sure. See, in case you haven't noticed, it's not about me tonight. It's about you, so you should be happy really. But then men, alien or not, are creatures I have never quite been able to comprehend." She began approaching him, eyes never leaving his as she did. "Why do they feel that primeval need to hold the threads? Why do they have to make things so damn difficult all the time?" She circled him, her breath tantalizing his skin as she let her eyes roam over his entire body.

Vegeta ground his teeth so strongly his entire frame went tense with the effort. She was like a venomous snake, a dangerous creature sizing her prey and for some very humiliating reason that prey tonight was no other than him. Fucking marvelous. May his father and his entire kingdom in hell be spared the knowledge.

"Why not behave? Why not enjoy the ride? Isn't it obvious you don't have a blinking choice in the matter? That's right, my Lord. You'd better believe you don't have a fucking choice." And with that she stabbed his right bicep with the needle, pushing down on the liquid right away. He raised his chin, chest heaving, and every muscle in his throat tensing to the fullest. "Don't worry, it will only bring you down a peg or two. You are of no use to me all knocked down." She threw the needle at the fire and turned to look at him, a mere two inches separating their faces.

His eyelids were fluttering under the influence of the drug, lips parted. It sent a tremor down her spine, an odd recognition at the sight. He really did look the exact same way he did when he was about to climax. She knew that expression all to well, the glistening sweat of his brow and the slightly more relaxed countenance. Yes, almost like a sexual expression, most definitely orgasmic.

"So" She said in an upbeat tone. "Indulge me wont you. What in heaven does it feel like to not be in control? Does it make you buzz in anticipation?"

His eyes flung open, throat emitting the exact same low gurgle of a panther on the prowl. "Oh Vegeta. It's okay, I know your dirty little secrets." She hissed against those reddened lips of his… they seemed fuller, more enticing tonight and she just had to wonder if the full moon somehow made him riper for sex.

"I know you've wanted it all night long. Weren't you almost begging for it like a little puppy? Hell, I'm sure you would have wagged your tail if you still had one." She felt his black pupils warm her insides with their flaming hatred.

He lifted an eyebrow, struggling to keep his eyes open. "You flatter yourself you bitch." His voice was impossibly husky, enough to make her skin tingle.

"Oh but quite convenient of you to deny what you truly want. How fucking convenient to pretend you weren't hard all night." Her hand slithered under the hem of his shirt, velvety smooth abdominal muscles meeting the palm of her hand. "Like you don't crave it right now, right this second. In fact, guess what…" Her other hand flew to cup his groin harshly, squeezing enough to make him wince. "You're still hard now."

Vegeta breathed through his teeth, troubled eyes attempting to focus on her. Whatever the hell she had injected him with was wrecking havoc on his system and turning him to jelly.

"What? Do you want me stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Bulma whispered, a fierce gleam in her eye. She resorted to traveling with both her hands under the tight material of his shirt. "Do you hate how good it makes you feel, praying against all hope that you don't like it? It's a startling revelation, isn't it? The knowledge that your body dares rebel to your will, that sense and reason could so easily be forgotten at the prospect of skin and sweat. The things we seek when no one's looking, that no one else knows we so desperately want. And yet, at the end of the day all we want is to die once more, to live once more in that one orgasmic second of bliss. Don't we want that quaking, pulsating need to cry out? Wouldn't we kill for it?" She nearly touched her lips to him, almost feeling their soft sensation brush against them. "You want to say no, don't you? Want to remain in control, to retain all sanity, berating yourself for how your body reacts to every touch." She took her time to explore the valleys and muscles of his torso, the nipples that hardened between her probing digits. She rubbed them purposefully, enjoying how he shivered when she circled her thumbs around them, flicking them. "And you hate yourself a bit more with every bolt of pleasure that travels through your veins, cursing yourself for such weakness. Rearing your pride to say you don't need it, oh you're better than this, you're above sex and its nasty pull. Not a puppet to its effect, no, not it's mindless victim. You don't crave it with every fiber of your being, the hot, tasty filth of it all. No, you shouldn't sacrifice pride for a good lay. So you stand there, like a dignified Prince when all you really want, and I know this very well…" She scraped her nails down his six pack. "All you really want is to be fucked."

The numbing effect of the drug lifted off instantaneously, pride and dignity scratching at his chest and crying violently. He darted his eyes in her direction and remained focused as if attempting to drill her mind with his gaze alone. "Oh, what is that I smell…" His voice drenched in sarcasm, nostrils flared as he sniffed the air around her. "Like musk and vanilla. Does it smell like eager juicy female sex to you too?"

The room spinned into a blur as a violent slap sent his face sideways, and he shook his head, blinking in disbelief. Damn, that actually hurt! He felt his brain bang against his skull and his jaw throb under the force of her palm. Whatever thing that syringe contained had rendered his ki-half dead and turned him into a pathetic weakling who now lay vulnerable to the puny attacks of a female. Again, two-zero and just fucking marvelous. Not only had she artfully conned him into this trap with soft, lilting promises of sexual gratification and acceptance, but she had managed to rob him of the power to exact any sort of vengeance, at least for the time being.

Had he underestimated her? No, he knew this girl was a hellion, he fed from it and liked the fact that he was the master of such a force of life. Yet, she kept posing more and more challenges, raising the bar in this game of insanity. He had to commend her for being so unpredictable, not that the thought made him happy right now. In fact in made him livid, for tonight of all nights he'd needed his fix of her body like never before.

"Huh, interesting." He smirked. "A right treat, a wonderful little speech to postpone the inevitable and gloss over the fact that you stand there, swollen between the legs yet babbling like a spoiled little girl. Well why the hell don't you just cut to the chase girl, as you humans say. Quit lying to yourself and turn this damn thing off. Indulge in what you truly want and can't seem to acknowledge." He pointed his eyes in the direction of his crotch, an eyebrow lifting up suggestively. "That right there. Every single inch of it."

Bulma only laughed, turning towards the chest at the foot of the bed and grabbing the pack of ultra light cigarettes that lay on top. She lifted a stick and lit it with her diamond studded Zippo then took a drag. "Pretty sad attempt Vegeta" Her lips curled as she neared him, blowing the white smoke right into his face. "Such a pathetic try really. Do tell me, what are you going do when I set you free? Are you going to fuck me or are you going to kill me, or fuck me then kill me, no… wait, kill me and then fuck me?" She chuckled. "What? As if you weren't capable of everything. As if you knew nothing of perversion."

Sweet nicotine rushed to fill her senses, relaxing her enough to lean back slightly and rake her eyes down his body unashamedly. "I don't really give a damn, but for the time being you're mine, my little pleasure doll and I say when I am done and when you need to SHUT THE FUCK UP." She belted into his face, purposefully making him angry at her. Oh this wasn't going to be good if he didn't hate her as much as he desired her. No, it had to hurt for it to be sublime. That was the law in this sick twisted world. No pain, no pleasure. And she'd get back at him, every pore of his body, and tell him many truths of what they'd shared. Whatever happened, happened. She didn't know what his reaction would be or how things would end, but she'd toy with life and death tonight… if only for this chance.

--

A/N This chapter has been written for quite a few weeks now but it's been a hell of a month. All I can say is real life has become as conflicted as this portion of the story (like some sort of freaking irony) so I have been literally forced to stop writing for weeks now. Before you all go scared, the good news is chapter 11 is already written. It was part of chapter 10 but the thing was so long I decided to chop it in half. So I might post it soon depending on how badly you kiddos need/want it… you know I turn to mush for you guys, come on I love you all. Oh and I must say, HUGE hug to Onedream, my 100th review on . You are adorable, and so are all of you who've been supportive through 10 chapters of a story that was originally supposed to be a lemon one-shot. I seriously considered naming all my reviewers, but I swear it'd take for freaking ever to write all the names down, and I don't wanna bore you like that! Something else, if anyone wants to be emailed when a new chapter comes out, make sure to let me know or leave your email address on your comment. To those who noticed my brief yaoi incursion, don't go thinking I'd ever leave VBs for Trutens. This is different. You all know I am in love with Vegeta don't you??

Love, Caprice


	11. Make Him See

**Disclaimer:** This is a piece of my fantasies (I think you can tell). I don't claim to own these characters. Ok I really really wanna own one character in particular.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

By Caprice

Chapter 11

Step 12 – Make Him See

He tensed up, his feline eyes widening at such a display of insolence.

"Do you hate me enough now? Are your hands just aching to squeeze the life out of me? For this travesty, for this abuse? It's tremendously confusing isn't it…" She feigned empathy, tilting her head and furrowing her brow. "I want her so badly, so badly I am about to burst, yet I want to ring her neck with my hands and see her die right before my eyes. How can I want to lay down with someone who treats me like an object, a possession? Someone who doesn't know her place? Why can't I just walk away with my conscience intact, with dignity and self-respect?"

Bulma's eyes softened slightly, traces of something unnamable peering through them. "But she's got what I need, even if she's the one controlling me, she's the one person who can ease this hunger. What kind of person does this make me? Acting like a puerile boy who doesn't know self-restraint… pleading for one more time, one more night before finally quitting the drug…. One more fuck. Wasn't I supposed to stand for something else? Isn't it obvious this can only destroy me, little by little, night by night? Isn't it true it could only thwart my path and lead me to a place I can't truly go? And yet it happens, this uncontrollable need, and here I am, wanting it all the more."

His eyebrows sank towards each other as he examined her, the muscles in his jaw shifting minutely. She held his eyes as her thoughts spilled out unhindered. "I hope you don't feel the urge to ask why I am doing this. I hope you see it my way, and if you still don't, you probably will by the end of the night. You might understand I can't be reduced to silence. Am I not to be an individual with an identity, a mind and a life of her own? An intellectual, a genius… someone to never be underestimated. Hell, according to Chikyuu I am nothing short of a luminary, certainly not a doll."

She narrowed her eyes, passion glinting in them. "In short, I am supposed to be mighty and powerful so the thought of being weak is, what would you call it? Unsettling? Yes, at the very least. Could make you seriously think you're on the verge of losing your mind." She sucked on the cig, expertly exhaling the smoke through her nostrils. "Exhausting if you ask me."

And then, completely unforeseen, she moved her arms gracefully and let her flimsy robe fall to a puddle at her feet. "Exhausthing yet unavoidable." He could feel saliva gather beneath his tongue as his eyes betrayed him. They wandered over the soft mounds of flesh that were her breasts, looking impossibly big due to the kiss of the firelight. It also licked the tiny waist and the incredibly wide hips he loved gripping.

"So why don't you just tell me what you want? Ask me what you need… Why deny what your heart desires." Bulma breathed, tempting him with a soft voice and innocent eyes.

His chest heaved, jaw clenched painfully as if he didn't trust his own tongue. He didn't want to betray himself, to fall prey to her schemes. Yet her pale skin appeared impossibly smooth tonight, smoother than ever, and the hard nipples kept pointing at him insolently through the translucent material. "Are you too proud to say it my Lord? Can't bring yourself to say you like Chikyuu-jin? I know you do, and I know why too, the things that you as a Saiya-jin find completely intoxicating. The shape, the form, the scent. The tightness."

Vegeta wanted to stare straight ahead, yet he was having trouble holding her gaze. His midnight eyes were intent on devouring her body and mocking his willpower completely.

"I heard you whisper it to my ear the other night in a voice so low it was even hard to pick up, but believe me, I did. You were so worked up you probably didn't even notice it slip your lips. Tight, soo tight you repeated, thrust after thrust, whispering it as you slipped inside me over and over again."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple moving and a sudden wave of anxiety crashing against the walls of his stomach. Empty, his mind was empty as he struggled to concentrate on a good comeback, a suave way to save his dignity, yet all he could think about was warm skin contracting, enveloping his need, the slick moisture and heady scent that tickled his testosterone. Female… sweet tasting skin, nectar lips, soft round butt-cheeks and supple breasts, Gods… was he really this weak?

She smiled demurely, narrowing the space between them so she could put her cigarette out against his chest. She flicked the stub to the side and grinned, running her hands through her glistening bangs. "Do you want me Vegeta? Do you want to touch me?"

He could only stare at her, lips pursing as if to say something yet feeling like a complete idiot. She let her gaze fall down to his mouth and the smooth curves of his lips, so plump and moist and eager, and the tongue the man possessed, so skillful and delectable, the way it liked to lick.

It was all too much for Bulma to bear, so she reached over towards the top of the fireplace and grabbed a pair of scissors that lay strategically placed.

"Want to feel skin against skin?" She added fiercely, grabbing the edge of his shirt and cutting upwards until she reached his collar. Upon a few more snips the garment came off, revealing the smooth torso of a god, so lean and muscular it was enough to make her womb protest. All which graced his collarbone was that necklace she'd once discovered inside his drawer. A piece of jewelry that was as exotic and foreign as it was utterly masculine. The dark chain that touched his skin was braided with an alloy she'd never seen before and the medallion in the center shimmered with that golden hued diamond that sparkled like fire. It was obvious the piece was just not from this planet.

Upon the subtle touch of air grazing his skin, his head spun and a buzz gathered at the apex of his thighs

"Yes… you do want it." She breathed, throwing the scissors aside. It was too much, this need for him, to see him break under her touch. Her eyes lit and her frame tensed and all caution was thrown to the wind.

"Say you do, say my name." All of a sudden her lips brushed against his neck, tongue coming out to play. All he could do was clench his eyes and try to master the stormy thoughts that collided inside his brain. She muffled a sound as she let her mouth play against his fervent skin, all the while tasting the slight salty moisture coating it. Her smooth hands glided along the sides of his narrow waist, delighting in the shape of his body.

Vegeta grunted and threw his head back, feeling his entire mind swim in a haze of guilt and self-hatred. It was like being torn in half, one part desperately wanting to give in and whisper her name in a plea, the other repulsed at how easily his nerves were being turn to jelly. The almighty Prince of self control, now nothing but a conflicted slave that had fallen slain by the needs of his own flesh.

"I know you want to say it but you can't. You hate how I make you feel, you hate this…" She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his. "You hate this pleasure. It's the pleasure that hurts the most isn't it? You are a master of pain, you thrive on it, you are used to it, but its pleasure this deep you can't truly deal with. You're not used to this… this thing we have, can't quite understand it. I've seen it in your eyes."

Vegeta narrowed his gaze, looking at her lips through fuzzy eyes due to their proximity. They breathed together, mouths almost touching, exhalations mixing.

"What is it you like the most, Geta?" She hooked a finger on the front clasp of her bra, toying with it as if she were intent on exposing the firm round breasts. "Is it this? I've seen you suckle on them like a baby for long… long minutes. What is it about them? Is it the shape, the little tips that feel so good against your probing lips?" She stepped back a few inches so he could get a good view of the objects of his lust. He was transfixed on them, the vicious serpent of self-loathing uncurling inside his stomach.

"Say it, baby…"All she wanted was to see him crumble, to flip the world over so his nerves broke much in the same way hers did when faced with his cruel sexuality. All she wanted was to exact her vengeance.

"Am I wrong? Is there something else you prefer? That other treat I hide between my legs? The one you enjoy like a boy savoring candy. Is that what you like the most?" The muscles in his face moved with the pressure he was applying to them. "Maybe not, maybe it's the _tight _little passage that I purposefully clench against you as you move inside out, all for the magnification of your pleasure. Oh yes, I go the extra mile for you_ Oujisama_, so you can get off on the feeling. I squeeze you with my muscles to hear you cry. To hear you say how much you like it when you think I am not listening. Quite a way to get addicted isn't it?"

Vegeta felt like he was about to foam from the mouth, a black cloud of pure rage gathering over his thoughts, yet he still wouldn't say a word and she felt hot resentment form a lump inside her throat. She knew he wanted her, it was more than evident against his tight pants, yet he retained that same control that eluded her so often when she lay in his arms.

She sought into his eyes but they were hard black diamonds, gleaming with pride and storming with unconcealed hate. And so she knelt before him, tears of pure fury welling up in her eyes.

He thought he'd never seen such a sight before him, not once had she looked this inviting, this tempting. The blue locks that framed such a delicate face, such expressive eyes, falling softly against her bare shoulders. And that very moment, he thought all he wanted was to slide his need between her breasts and explode on her lips. She was so HIS, so young and ready, and his. And with every bit of wanting his hatred serpent stirred, biting its fangs into his innards and making him grimace.

Bulma bit back her tears, refusing to give in to her emotions. "Do you remember all the times I told you to stop" She whispered, unbuttoning his pants and zipping them down but still not revealing that which could satiate the most demanding woman. "The times I begged you, yet you wouldn't quit until early morning. Remember when you made me cum and cry at the same time? Do you think those were tears of joy, Prince? What do you think?"

His frame quivered slightly, so much pent-up emotion threatening his sanity.

Bulma raised an eyebrow, fingers still pressing on the little metal square of his zipper. "You want me to stop this. To leave you alone and not violate you. You hate being vulnerable, being the one fucked. I know the sentiment deeply. I know it better than you can think." She indeed knew the truth to how he felt, but she wouldn't stop there. She slid his pants a few inches to free that treat that wrapped around his lower ab, tip touching his navel. It was a glorious sight that made her mouth water, quite literally. Oh God, always the same effect, always the same beauty.

"Vegeta…" She breathed, closing her eyes and opening her mouth, a dainty hand grabbing a hold of him and bringing him to her lips. "It's so good isn't it? Like pure adrenaline rushing through your body or like journeying through the stars. So good that way… so good to sin."

He released a pent-up breath, air he didn't even know he'd been holding all along. To his bitter dismay his hips began moving out of their own volition, slightly forwards, into the heavenly suction that was working his nerves. Oh she was good, not that he hadn't been blown before by highly skillful women. Girls liked doing this kind of thing (at least the kind of girls HE got to see), but this one, she was furious and violent in her hatred, punishing the sensitive flesh with vengeance yet taking his entirety with utmost delight.

Her breathing resounded as she invested her efforts in her task. She concentrated on that little hole, flicking her tongue over it and savoring the taste of man as inviting as him. Indeed, it must be the hatred and the challenge that made this so good. That notion flowed through both of them, exactly at the same time as they were perfectly attuned in mind and body.

Thoughts of her breasts, her thighs, her every region flooded his senses as he began gasping with the voice of a little prepubescent boy.

"Fuuck." He moaned, his hips moving gracefully so he could slide further into that suckling little mouth. Images of all the times he'd grabbed those threads of blue silk and held her still while shoving it all the way in invaded his brain. He'd kill for that sensation right now, but he couldn't, all his power restrained by her genius.

A little more of that sweet torture, a little peek at him as his jaw dropped and his face contorted. And then she freed him, running her palms over the sides of his torso and placing her cheek against the muscles of his abdomen.

"All those times we spent together… you and me. Alone in the house, eating, playing in bed, talking about trivial, little things. Do you remember? All the times I gave you what you needed, material or otherwise, every sort of attention. The things I showed you that you never thought existed. The sights, the sounds, smells, tastes, the music…. the laughter of every moment spent in bliss. Me clad in lace, me pleasing you on my knees as your chest heaved, me walking around like a blue-haired Barbie doll wearing whatever you preferred me wearing, all for your delight."

She dropped little kisses over his skin as she breathed the words against his body. "There wasn't an inch of you I didn't explore with my hands as I worked your tension spots… as I relaxed you in every way possible, mind and body. Like that time, when I washed you with a sponge as you rested your head against my chest in the stillness of the bathtub. Remember the water moving around as you ran your hands down my legs. My arms around your neck… kisses on your cheek." She tightened her lids. "Didn't I seem happy?"

She let a palm smooth over the taut muscles of his lower ab as she continued her exploration of his regions. Her breasts were pressed against his virility, making it hard for him to forget how much he wanted her. "A concubine, happy to fulfill her duties. A broken mare. My only aim to please you, to take care of your every need and lay in the shadows of your life. All to treat you like the god of mine, my master, and there I was, thankful for the mercy you showed me at allowing my every breath. Oh thankful, that you'd chosen me, privileged because you deemed me worthy of your fucking attention. That you decided to spare my life because I was of use to you, a handy little _thing_."

Something in his chest stung, the sheer emotion she conveyed in every word playing games with his head. It was a place he thought empty, right there, in the center of his being, yet she was making something stir in its depth, unnerving him to no end.

She raised her eyes to his, unshed tears making them glisten. "And you liked indulging in your own accomplishment, getting a kick out of the whole twisted ordeal. That you had the old man's daughter as a prisoner in mind and body and she could do nothing about it. You riled in it."

What was her hand doing? It moved so… so very temptingly, all over his manhood, and all he could do was stand there and listen, and feel it against his pulsating need. "I have my own memories. I remember you seeking me out to breath in my neck and run your hands down my body, all so you could sexually intimidate me. How glad it made you cornering me like a prey. And when you finally convinced yourself that no sense or reason remained in my mind, that's when you really began feeling triumphant. When you thought I'd been reduced to nothing but a slave to your will, pretty much a sex toy. You were, dare I say… happy, content with life. You stood in the dark corners of the house staring at me dreamily for minutes on end when you thought I didn't know you were looking. You lay in bed, following my every move as I folded your clothes, as I sang and hummed after sex, cleaning the mess we'd made. When I slipped out of your sight you sought me out and stood in the doorway spying on me as I showered, as I got dressed. Oh yes I knew all the sneaky things you did, I knew much more than you think."

"You had me all to yourself and tell me, didn't I also seem happy, as content as you?" Bulma moved forward to twist scorching lips over his torso, heated hands roaming over his skin, from the most sensitive parts to his waist and back. Vegeta's breath came in hitches as he hung his head low and rode the pleasure waves. "Happy in your arms. Happy with a quickie, happy tasting every drop like you often demanded and being left in the cold of the rumpled sheets when you were done."

Her hands wrapped around his hardness once again, and there she began, working his need intensely as she looked upwards into his eyes. "Do you remember every smile that haunted you? Because I know it did, don't tell me it didn't. You're a man after all and women have their ways. Was it convincing? Did it make something in your chest tighten a little; did it make you believe I was truly yours?"

Vegeta moaned as if in excruciating pain. "Did you jerk off in the GR thinking about me? Did you secretly smile when it was time for me to come home because you'd been erected all day long thinking about your sex kitten? That's what I promised didn't I? And I fucking delivered my Prince. I delivered a lot more than you bargained for."

Her grip on him was cruel, yet he was hard as a rock, and the horrible combination made him inhale between his teeth.

"Want me to stop?"

Vegeta's thighs began to quiver. Good, he was cumming. "I am a very good actress am I not Vegeta. I did my job very well. Hell, your Ki improved a whole lot, 75 percent, not bad! And here's a little tip, something I neglected to say earlier before. At this percentage you are not hopeless anymore. You could actually achieve the rest on your own with pretty good odds, pick up pretty girls at bars, meditate, see the world… whatever entertains you, your Ki's got momentum. You don't really need me anymore, isn't that just astoundingly great? Don't I deserve a fucking trophy?"

Vegeta swallowed hard and shut his eyes. Sweat began dripping down the indentation between the muscles of his chest.

"Every single time you thought about me instead of obsessing over becoming a Super Saiya-jin. Every time we did something different, when I showed you my world, when we panted against the covers, it brought that little digit further down. As we tore down those walls, letting Chikyuu in, letting your obsession with me grow. A pretty girl, substituting that psychotic drive for power… that really did the trick. Aren't women something, aren't we special? So thank me for every touch and every smile Vegeta."

He pressed his lips, willing with all his might to hold his climax in. No he wouldn't… he shouldn't surrender.

She run her palms up his thighs and his narrow hips, knowing it was now only a matter of time before he cried out in pleasure. Not much more left for her to do. "Thank me for making you think I was truly happy in your arms. For every little thing that made you fall for me a bit more and fall away from your psychosis without you even noticing."

"No…" He gasped, eyes closed, rejecting the words she was punishing him with. "What… what are you saying?" He said hoarsely.

"What am I saying? But isn't it clear yet? All I am saying is… you like me."

Vegeta felt the cold weight of death sink into his stomach, the world spinning violently as the pain of his arousal coursed through his veins. His entire world had switched into stereo, things both clearer and yet somehow, more confusing. Things he didn't want to know or even realize.

"And you like me… because I made you like me. You want me, because I made you want me. Didn't you know? Didn't you know your eyes stay on me a little too long at times? Didn't you know you couldn't wait to escape with me when we were at that dinner? Didn't you hear the pounding of your heart when you thought you'd lost me as I threw myself from the rooftop? I have seen the murderous eyes you glare at Yamcha when he touches me. Would it really not matter if you fucked me while I thought about him? I know your answer. I know you'll say you don't give a damn and that all you want is my body. So here you go, I'll give that to you… because it's all you'll ever have. "

She was graceful as she stood up, held his chin and forced him to look at her. "That's what you like saying, but know this, the truth is you can't own something and not be owned back in return. No one is exempt, not even you." Vegeta felt something in his chest sting immensely, so much hatred, so much pleasure, consuming every single inch of him. He didn't want to want her, he didn't want to crave her. No, this was tearing him apart little by little. He hated himself deeply. Was this… was this how'd she'd felt all along, was this the true ugly face of everything they'd shared?

"A transaction Vegeta." She remarked, as she unclasped the front of her bra and let it fall to the carpet. Her fingers twisted around the whispery fabric of her panties and pulled them south, until all that remained was his fetish, uncovered and ready, her naked body displayed and touched only by shadows and firelight. "Nothing but a transaction. This for that. Sex bought by intimidation, threats and fears."

"Stop"

Ah sweet victory. Bulma smiled as her tongue wet her lips.

Vegeta growled in pain deep in his throat. He'd felt hatred during his life. It had been the cornerstone of his existence, the one fuel that propelled him forward and gave him the will to survive. It had always been him and his dark poison, not much else, no other way to live, so he knew all there was to know about it, or at least that's what he'd thought until now.

No, this was different. There was no hatred like this hatred. This was the type of thing that sliced through to your very core and lodged itself in the deepest parts of your soul, the kind of thing that made your blood run cold. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before. A sweet obsession, a lust for blood and sex… HER blood and sex. Only hers would do.

"Don't hold it in, Vegeta. You lost this war before you even started. You ARE going to come." She knew she had worked him up until the point of no return, her soul void of any emotion as she let all the black murky feelings snap forth and fill her heart. Now all it took for him to loose control was the mere sight of her bare porcelain skin. "You got what you wanted."

Vegeta gasped… no he couldn't fight her. Gods, he was gone.

"Now give me what I want, give me what I came here for…"

The smooth planes of his face crinkled in desperation. It was a rare beauty, like a wounded beast thrashing against a trap. Try as he did, it was futile and she knew that. So she stood there, indulging in that sickening sense of power she hadn't been able to experience until now. Was this horrible power what he was so addicted to? Could she really blame him for loving this so much?

"Yes…" She breathed, when his shoulders lifted upwards and his chest convulsed violently. And that erected portion of him twitched slightly as the hotness spilled out of him, and it kept coming as he gasped desperately, lips parted and body tensing with the effort. His voice was beautiful, all of a sudden much younger than his age. His face the stuff of poetry, so much pleasure etched in it he seemed on the verge of dying right then and there. Heat emanated from his nakedness as his damp skin flushed profusely. More, more of it coming forth in the last little spurts of his virility, thankfully missing their bodies as it came.

Bulma wanted to kiss him, to give in to pleasure herself, yet all she did was cup his face between her palms as he breathed unevenly, his body still shaking. It was supposed to be a great feat, a triumph that she'd done this to him, yet a powerful surge of grief broke free within her and she was forced to turn around and walk a few steps towards her vanity.

It was over and the time for reality was here. She chanced a look at him as he stood there panting and shooting black bottomless eyes her way. He looked like he'd murdered her with his gaze alone if he could.

He was humiliated and violated, but it wasn't the first time he'd had to wager a war with those feelings. And the sheer power of this new special kind of hatred only fueled his fire even more, his desire for her blood, her cries, her body. And so unexpectedly, his Saiya-jin gene kicked in, and out of rage grew power, enough to counter the dampening field that was shrouded over his body. He could feel it swelling inside him, and with that, a sadistic smirk spreading over his lips.

"Chikyuu-jin…" He growled as her eyes wandered over his bronze features. He then grinned, a hoarse whisper coming forth to warn her of what was to come. "Chikyuu-jin… what were you going to do when the time came to release me. What was your plan? Surely you knew you couldn't keep me here forever." She frowned, striving to dismiss his words yet feeling a little shiver down her spine. "Did you think that far ahead eh… girl?" He let his words slide forth in that voice that would make any enemy wet himself, or any woman for that matter.

She glared at him, blue eyes firing up in a blaze, her lips attempting to form words that couldn't come.

"What? A little scared?" He mocked, exuding deep sexual intimidation. And then he lowered his gaze to hers, and they looked at each other for an uncountable number of seconds. No one tore their eyes away; no one moved a muscle or breathed as the energy between them practically crackled. Bulma suddenly tensed, every muscle in her well toned thighs going rock hard at a frightening realization. He was fucking her, right there and then, with his eyes alone, an enormous wave of transparent ki reaching towards her and slinking in between her genitals. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she grabbed unto the edge of the vanity and she pressed her lips together, eyes blinking in disbelief as she fought to keep her face from grimacing.

The energy enveloped her body, and the ki field showering him began to flicker on and off. It smelled a little burnt as energy snapped around the chrome projector.

And on it went, his heat probing her every crevice. Vegeta licked his lips and a strange smile pulled at them. All of a sudden strong arms flung forth, free from their ordeal, legs finally able to move as the field surrendered to the sheer power that now shot through his veins. He walked a few steps in her direction and zipped up his pants as he moved with his usual grace. Yet there was tension of every kind concealed in those muscles and a raw need for her in those eyes. They were two pinpoints of malice and hate, his tongue licking his fangs lecherously. "Oh yes… Bulma. Didn't I tell you?" His wicked grin grew wider, eyes that of a devil.

"Now _you_ get to give me what I want."

--

"A 75 Cadillac? By Kami, that is ancient, not to mention expensive" Enma-sama's burly voice resounded in the ample room of judgement. "The thing is a relic, it belongs in a freaking museum!"

"Yeah, yeah expensive. That's the part where you come in, my Lord. It's the number one thing in my list. I've already made the down payment on that amazing piece of machinery and am already piling up my cushions to enjoy the first ride. I'd take you along, if only you were able to take a few days off and visit Chikyuu that is. Quite a pity you are forced to man this station for all of eternity." She smirked, her entire pudgy face wrinkling with the gesture. "Now hit me"

He threw the next card on the table with his meaty hand before issuing a chuckle of disbelief. "Don't you think that's getting ahead of yourself, dear Baba. Now we all know your crystal ball is nothing but a glorified TV receiver, oh and perhaps a locator of missing objects, but an actual fortune telling device? I can say I _sincerely doubt_ so."

"Oh and just what in the world is that supposed to mean, Enma"

Kami-sama rolled his eyes at the sound of her voice. It felt like a drill puncturing his temple with the sheer pitch and vibrato it held. It was that and the burden of his guilt that tortured him, that irrevocable knowledge that he was part of this sad trio of individuals who had the nerve to gather for such mundane reasons as games of chance. What a spiritual no no, this scenario, and yet, somehow he was still sure to always attend the twisted meetings.

Sure, it made him wonder if he deserved the divine grace of the deities above him, the ones who were probably watching now, shaking their heads in disappointment. What was the guardian of Chikyuu doing holding game cards in his hands, playing twenty-one on Enma-sama's lunchbreak… with a shady witch as third player! Making bets and listening to such unholy talk of such shallow nature. He glanced from one being to the other. Well, he supposed somehow someone had to police their conscience.

Enma remained quiet as the compact figure of the old woman crossed arms. "I said, what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you shouldn't be so confident in winning this bet." He scoffed. "You don't actually know the future. You can't tell what's going to happen. What you're doing is sheer lunacy my friend, sheer lunacy. You have already placed money on a car you don't even know you'll be able to afford anyway. I do hope you can get your money back." And with that he grinned.

Uranai Baba, celebrated figure of both this world and the next, having acquired whichever abilities she possessed through more than shady circumstances, merely laughed. Her high cackle was distinctive of an old woman, ancient really, positively old. As old as old is. "And this coming from someone who already asked me to place an online bid for that snazzy new personal computer that would look _"just phenomenal gracing his desk". _Your words, if I'm not mistaken. Oh I believe you really should be careful with that one… you might just win that auction, which you're entering in with my account, shall I remind you, and then you'll have to pay for the damn thing anyway. I am not getting a negative comment on epay for your fault. Hit me".

That was it. He had been on the quiet end way too long, and the strange weight of remorse was beginning to oppress his aging heart. Reality was two young souls were entangled in a power struggle that could very well threaten not only their lives but the lives of others and these two were only concerned about a… a car and some sort of electronic contraption. "Now wait a minute here" he lay his cards face down on the table, sending them both a look of utmost concern and reproach. "You mean you are already shopping around for expensive toys when this thing's not even over? Do you even realize how incredibly petty and self-centered you both sound right now?" His voice was hoarsened by the years but heavy with determination.

"A toy? That is not a toy. Granted I do have a few savings, but nothing like what I'd need in order to get an ultra powerful personal computer and server able to hold and process the amount of data I deal with on a daily basis." The crimson giant exclaimed. "I got technical needs!"

"And me, I got car needs. So life is being threatened… so why shouldn't someone take a little advantage of it all. I already told you nothing which was not supposed to happen will happen anyway. Besides… " She crossed her stubby arms and grimaced. "Life's a bitch and that's the way it is."

"Oh please, spare me the poorly conceived moral reasoning." Kami raised his eyes to the ceiling. "How can you even be so sure either one's going to win anyway? By all the Gods in creation, isn't it a little obvious the Saiya-jin Prince and his mistress have something……. special, going on?"

"News flash, my sweet Kami-sama, and by Popo I never thought I'd say this but I think I've reached a point of knowledge superior to even yours. As we sit here, blabbering on about morals and trinkets and what not, Saiya-jin and Chikyuu-jin royalty are having a serious showdown. I knew my girl would deliver, she'd tell it like it is and get rid of the whole situation as soon as she realized she was in way over her head. At least I know that's were she's headed. Whatever happens now MUST certainly do the trick and scare her away. She will leave him for good. She got what she wanted anyway, it was about damn time she snapped out of it."

Enma-sama could only laugh, a booming sound that made the table rattle. "I think Kami over here may be very right for once Baba. It isn't quite over yet is it? What does a big bad beast do when you poke him just enough times, do pray tell me? Does he recoil like a little kitten or does he strike back like the predator he is? Not only will HE leave HER, he will send her straight this way."

Slight concern furrowed her brow. "Quit it".

And then the atmosphere changed entirely at the gentle sound of Kami's chuckle, so soothing it reminded them of the chime of bells on a Sunday morning. They remained surprised as he sent them an intense look that commanded their attention in more ways than one.

"To kill or be killed. To slay or be slain in the bitter reality of this world. It's the game we are forced to play when we fear for our survival, when we see we are entering uncharted territory, going places and feeling things we can't quite understand. We are used to control and to guarding our core from any potential weakness, so do we kill the child of passion before it devours us whole or do we take a chance? Or let me put it this way, should we plunge into the unknown? Do we place a bet on that newborn feeling and carry on?

"Well, you certainly are betting on it, literally." Enma replied, brow creasing.

"Indeed I am. See, you look down to Chikyuu and what you see is what the world. A selfish murderer with a thirst for cosmic domination and the spoiled heiress to a corporate throne, and perhaps I can't quite blame you for that. That is indeed who they are, what they've become by the force of life, pain, excess and indulgence… and maybe mostly by default. And they know this too, the indisputable truth of who they are to others and most of all, who they are supposed to be." He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"We have all been fated for life and there's nothing we can do to stop it. This thing we have come to embody, shaped by old abuse and failures, or by the comments and expectations of others is what we truly are. This piece of work, hard, jaded and calloused is all we can ever be. Selfish, foolish and incapable of true virtue. Incapable of love and never meant for it anyway. This is it. The scarlet letter burned on our foreheads not just through birth, but through our own degraded actions. Time and again, mistake after mistake, disgrace after disgrace, all reinforcing the things people say, of who you are and what you are meant to be. Under that perish the ideals of beauty and love, and they are forlorn as mere conjectures, old legends only fools believe in. Under that dies the heart in its endeavor to say, you might not be who you think you are after all. As it whispers to you tales of hope, redemption and truth, tales of a different future you could perhaps forge for yourself.

"Damn right the heart dies." Baba replied sullenly. "As I said, life is nothing but a twisted path of thorns. All we can do is indulge in what little we can, while we can. Love… truth, beauty…, don't you mean power and money, or whatever other thing makes it worthwhile? And shouldn't we devout our lives to it? Lucky those who actually have them to spare and can harness them to the fullest."

Enma leaned back in his seat. "Kami, the odds remain in our favor and you know this. There's a high chance she will bail upon the horrid truth of who he is. I can't say when, but she probably will, sometime before the end of these three years. She will cease to harbor that seed of faith oh who he can be. And him… well, do I truly need to expand? She's a liability to him, and he knows better than to let her live. They might wind up bringing her back through the dragon, but that won't change what he surely will do. Either way, we win.

Kami stood up with a pensive smile and grabbed his robe. He took a few slow steps in the direction of an ample window and stared out into the expanse of rolling nacre clouds.

"Do souls strong enough to challenge their own destiny eventually come to exist? Can we actually change? And if so… what is the key to it?"

Enma-Sama lowered his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me. Love…?"

"Love?" He chuckled deeply. "That immense concept so heavily abused? The carrot held over the head of the masses to fool them into false expectations and bitter delusions. It's so easy to place responsibility on that celebrated notion, of salvation through a word we don't truly comprehend and the acceptance of others. But what I ask you is, can you love another if you can't even love yourself to begin with?"

Baba glowered at him, bewildered by words she was trying to come to terms with. "Love for themselves is all they truly have. It's all they care about!"

Kami narrowed his eyes to look beyond the golden hues of the heavens. "That isn't love, but selfishness which derives from ignorance and fear, for to truly love yourself is to believe you are more than you thought you could be."

Enma, who'd been twiddling a pen between his fingers stopped and raised his eyes to him, a strange tone of reverence suddenly in his voice. "Faith. The key is faith."

Kami's smile widened as he glanced upon the otherworld and its glory. "Faith, indeed. For it's faith that strengthens the heart and let's us believe we can be children of virtue, placed upon creation to discover love, grace and the beauty we carry inside. It makes us believe we can be more than we think we are or what they say we should be. It makes us trust our hearts."

"Faith, my friend, for it let's us believe in a bright day."

--

A/N: I've had it rough these past few weeks, and all I can say is a lot of it has shown through in this chapter. I know it's deeper than just UST but I hope you guys try to see into these characters as deeply as I see, because they are nothing but fascinating. The next few chapters make me terribly excited. I wrestled with what is to come but in the end I said, ah what the hell, I'll just throw the ball out of the park! Sweet kisses. Caprice.


	12. To Live or Die

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on Akira Toriyama's amazing story. The Prince is too tempting not to borrow.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

By Caprice

**Chapter 12**

Step 13 – To Live or Die

Of all sensations experienced, she'd never stumbled across this one. It was something to feel the heat of his hands upon her skin, but to feel this… this current buzzing all over her body, filtering in places forbidden, it was electrifying. It was warm and tingly and it flowed sensuously without letting her do anything about it. Her limbs weren't responding, her knees turned to mush and she was suddenly thankful his ki kept her pinned against the wall or else she'd collapse. How easily tables turned, she mourned inside, a random thought rescued from a mind overtaken by the wickedness of his touch. How grandly had she underestimated his prowess, neglecting the simple fact that his alien power gene fed from fury like a thirsty leech, and that same fury blazed unhindered in his eyes.

He regarded her as she uttered a shaky gasp, her fingers trembling as she stood there bound and paralyzed. She was by far the most beautiful prey he'd ever caught, worthy of the chase and the patience but mostly, worthy of this depth of passion. She was a mystical vision, with her hair pressed to the wall by the force of his energy, shaped into curls and patterns that framed the unnamable beauty of her face. Breasts rose continuously as he slid his power inside her slowly but steadily, the current of his electricity spreading forth through her insides. Bouts and bouts of ki made her emit forceful groans as they traveled and dissipated through her guts and limbs.

He could only imagine the type of thrill the sensation evoked in this dangerous game that forced him to work his energy with precision. Walking such a fine line between life and death was pushing his mind to the edge, for never had he felt something as erotic as touching a woman without truly touching her… seeing her writhe under his influence while he still stood a full two meters away. A thousand words raced through his mind yet all he could think of…all he could muster was one single word.

"Why?"

Her cherry lips parted to let a pained moan escape. She then forgot to breath, eyes dazed as he flowed inside her most sensitive regions yet again, torturously slowly.

"Why are you doing this if you know…" He closed his eyes and turned his face to the side before opening them again. "If you know who I am and what I'll do to you?"

She swallowed hard and gathered the courage to face him. There was something in her quivering gaze, something like pain and like sorrow, and that very moment Vegeta felt it again, that incredibly unsettling tug were he thought only emptiness existed, in the middle of his chest.

"Because I hate you… " She answered in a shaky whisper.

"Bullshit." He spat. He started pacing slowly, eyes not once leaving hers. "This isn't about me. This is about you and your stupid little complexes. It's about how you can't bring yourself to face the awful truth of who you really are and what you really want."

He suddenly halted his step to pick up what remained of his shirt, now rendered unusable by the sharp edge of the scissors. "Now that's just fucking great." He muttered, examining the garment briefly before sending it into the flaming fireplace. A stray bud of satisfaction flourished inside her at the notion that those arms and chest would just have to remain uncovered. The necklace served as his only adornment and it suited his skin tone perfectly as it surrounded his powerful neck gracefully.

He sent her a reprieving gaze before reclaiming the topic at hand. "You want to be who they want you to be, little miss perfect. It's the goal you've tried to attain all your life to no avail. It's the one thing you wish you could be so you are spared the bitterness of being called a disgrace to your family, to your business empire and to everyone else for that matter. You wish they accepted you, for who you are, the world, this… Chikyuu you're so fond of." He opened his arms, a cold twisted smile on his face. "But they simply don't, do they? Your illustrious brainpower is nothing to them, because at the end of the day all they can focus on is the fact that you're daddy's little girl and you look like a great fuck."

"Let me go…" Some of her temper finally shone through as she expelled the words between gritted teeth.

"Hn." He threw her a sideways glance, the intensity of his speech never wavering. "And so you keep trying and trying to outdo yourself. You become an overachiever in your field as a scientist only so they can end up taking you for granted or even worse, comparing you to the old man. When you see your failure you keep trying to prove your worth, to earn their approval, running off to meetings to appear responsible, striving to sound authoritative to the thousands of eyes that look up to you. But it doesn't really amount to anything. And on and on it goes, you're only reward the gossip and the morbid fascination these fools have with you. And you know why that is?" He stopped at the foot of the bed and picked up the pack of cigarettes that lay on top of the bench chest. He studied them uninterestedly and arched an eyebrow, the force of his energy still kneading her flesh like a never-ending caress.

"Because you can't hide who you truly are as much as you try. You can't help your thirst for danger, the irreverence of your clothes or the weakness of your flesh. You're true nature is evident in the way you talk and your every little gesture. You still succumb to your own lusts and temptations like the nasty little girl you are." He threw the pack aside and threw himself on top of the chest, leaning his back against the bedpost. One leg lay on the length of the surface, slightly bent so he could perch his elbow on it.

She breathed in hard. "You have no right to believe you know me you arrogant son of a…"

"Be quiet." He snapped, that irritating arrogant smile planted on his face.

The lewd touch of his ki suddenly became painful as it wrapped around her neck. It felt like a tight ring, choking her enough to impair her speech yet gentle to allow her to breath.

"You still throw yourself into the most lurid circumstances. You'd rather run after those stupid friends of yours and get involved in whatever mess you can find. For every time you try to behave like you're expected to, you do something outrageous that completely shifts the focus of everyone's attention. So you go on living with this dual personality, at times wishing you were somebody else so you're free to be as filthy as you truly are."

Bulma choked on a moan, her eyes burning with tears that now threatened to run free of their confines.

"You can't live with yourself, can you, Chikyuu-jin" He said, leaning forward slightly, and sporting that half smile half scowl that made his face darkly handsome. "You can't live with the fact that you like fucking a murderer."

Bulma cringed, her features twisting into an expression of utter torment and desperation. She wanted to be free, by God she did. Her fingers curled into fists as she attempted a futile escape from the hold of the sensuous blue-hued light.

"And the thought of others finding out…friends… family…anyone else. The notion of word slipping out…" He tsked, and shook his head. The hidden threat in his voice was not lost to her. "Now what a bad little girl you turned out to be. What will people say about you and your scandalous nature? I really don't think that's what a good, sensible and respectable lady would do. It might just end up sinking your already shaky reputation."

She looked at him with genuine terror in her eyes and all he did was… laugh. The bastard laughed! He sat there, throwing his head back, enjoying some sort of twisted joke only he understood as she stood there frightened and restrained. Her body shook from the sheer rage that shot through her veins like fuel lit on fire.

When his rich, deep laughter ceased he sent her a penetrating look that spoke volumes in its harshness. "Don't be scared Bulma of Chikyuu. I don't concern myself with petty little gossip. I won't speak the true twisted reality of who you are. They can keep thinking you retain at least some shred of dignity. I suppose that truly worries you deeply." A corner of his mouth lifted. "You can keep lying to yourself too, believing you embarked in tonight's suicidal exploit because you hate _me_ when in reality, you hate yourself more than anything else."

"Nn..trrruee." She gritted.

"What was that?" He inquired sarcastically. "Oh… allow me." He adjusted the force of his ki, easing the pressure on her dainty neck.

"I said, that's not true you fucking bastard""

"Oh, yet another example of your ladylike ways." He remarked, unfazed by the sudden insult. "That dirty little mouth of yours. I presume they're at least aware of that, yet another dark spot in your record. What they don't know, is what other things you like doing with it."

"Let me go Vegeta. Right this minute." Bulma strived to send him the most menacing glare she could gather, but her lips suddenly quivered when he let his eyes trail down to breasts. Her flesh felt warmer, tiny sparks of electricity buzzing around the sensitive tips and sending a tremor across her body.

His voice was infinitely graver when speaking the following words and he purposefully intensified the pressure of his invisible touch to punctuate them. "You know what my problem with you is girl? My problem is… I don't know. I just don't know if I want to kill you or fuck you. The minute I actually gather the courage, all I wind up doing is making you mine."

Bulma breathed harshly and her face softened into a desperate plea. "I don't… please… I don't want you to make me yours."

"You just don't cut the bullshit do you?" He said rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I never asked you to go the extra mile for me. You wore all sorts of flimsy garments not only because you actually liked wearing them, but because you liked me tearing them off. You were always ready for me by the time you came home, without a single touch or a single whisper from my lips."

She wanted to say something, she truly did, but her eyes only widened and her heart sped up.

"No? I could smell you miles away." With that he rose to his feet and walked slowly in her direction, the fuzzy glow of the room spread over the tight perfection of his naked torso as he moved, and she had the most difficult time not noticing it.

"You claim you know so much about me, yet you believe me an ignorant." He stopped a few steps from her, and placed a palm against the wall, breaths away from her hair. "I know how much you want it, how much you wanted it even before we started this… this _thing_ we have."

Oh God, no… no… Her pupils shrunk as she fastened them on his. He couldn't know could he? That she'd been crushed on him since the moment she met him. That she'd dreamt about being his since the very start, since before she even concocted the perfect plan to get him into her arms.

"Back then, when I was fresh to this world, you sat on that living room, almost naked, legs in very unladylike positions as you flicked through the channels of the receiver. Were you tempting me with those bare legs and that sinful scent?" He nodded downwards, pure malice drawn into a smirk. And then, completely unexpectedly she actually spat on his face, utter fury shooting through her blue eyes. His features transformed into smoldering rage as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, the same one he then placed beside her head so he could fully brace his weight on his two palms.

"You don't like the truth do you, little one." There was only contempt in his voice, as he raked his eyes all over her face. "But the truth doesn't end there. I witnessed the extent of your lowest passions without you even knowing it…. saw you lying on your bed, touching yourself and whispering my name as you moved your hips slowly. You were thorough with your caress, not sparing an inch of that swollen flesh as your eyelids fluttered in utter ecstasy." His mouth hovered over hers, lips so close she could touch them if she only moved a centimeter closer. "I caught every look you sent my way ever since my arrival. No one else noticed but me. I always did… I paid attention to you. I felt the slight elevation of ki when we accidentally bumped together in the hallway and your fingers grazed mine, and you turned back to say _excuse me_."

She opened her mouth and tried to explain herself, and again it was all a big monumental failure. "I know Bulma, I know you wanted me. It was evident from my position, concealed in the shadows, watching you through the full length crystal doors of your open shower. I know it overlooks the highest parts of the compound, were only foliage is your witness. That or whoever's low enough to be perched on their branches, watching your every move."

"How could you do that? You didn't have the right, you sick …"

"And you let the nearly scalding water flow over your body and sneak into your crevices while you thought about me… smiling to yourself and gasping in bouts of pleasure as you indulged in your own touch. And do you want to know what I heard? What name you repeated as a climax consumed you?"

"No" She whispered. He had known. All this time he had known she'd had a sick infatuation with him.

"You almost fooled me into thinking you were different, that your acts and gestures of benevolence meant you welcomed me truly. But now I realize it was that same lustful attraction that made you want to destroy me, to throw me out, because you hated thinking someone of your lineage could hold fantasies with the likes of me. You were much better than me, weren't you? You couldn't slip that way. The only way to solve your little predicament was disposing of me, that dirty dangerous distraction you had let into your home recklessly. You soon realized nothing would change the fact that I was the bad guy. You grew tired and weary of my presence and so you taunted me by taking it all away. If I left your place, you won. If I killed you, once again, you won. They could easily resurrect you and as far as I was concerned….well, you thought that dumb fuck would avenge your murder."

Okay, so phew, he actually didn't know the entire truth. He still believed she had concocted a twisted plot to drive him away and that it was for that same reason she'd sabotaged the GR and denied him everything else. He still believed she'd never wanted to enact her fantasies and actually sleep with him.

"Is that what you are still trying to do here? Trick me into killing you?"

She regarded him with wistful eyes. "No Vegeta. I just don't care anymore. You can do as you wish. The way I see it, you'd be only freeing me from this torment. You'd be letting me go to a place were I no longer have to deal with…" She wrestled with her thoughts, gaze falling low in abject desolation and utmost despair.

"You want me to make the decision for you, don't you?" He moved his face so their lips brushed slightly. "You're so torn over who you pretend to be and who you truly are you simply can't go on. By now you have probably figured out I'd make it seem like a natural cause, or an accident, or anything that won't place the blame on me, so I am free of you and free of blame. Yeah, the truth is this is nothing but a fucking pathetic death wish."

"Think what you will but the other world is no longer nearly as scary as it used to be before Goku died and saw it for himself. So if that's were you want to send me, I truly fail to see the tragedy in it."

"Of course you do fail to see the tragedy. It's death that brings about posthumous adoration to mortals. It's death that suddenly makes a person virtuous and cleanses memories of his or her shortcomings. And it's death that would certainly ease the guilt of your conscience isn't it. The guilt of sinning together with me."

He sought her eyes with his own and placed his lips to hers. It was like the touch of a feather both soft and tantalizing and she felt genuinely tempted to hold that plump lower lip between hers to taste it.

"But you don't deserve such an easy way out, such absolution." He went on. "You don't get to sneak out of this one. In fact you get to face the utter reality of your hidden desires and the things you don't like to admit. Don't you think I hear you denying our liaison?"

She tried to turn her face to the side but he caught her chin and forced her to look up into his raging eyes. "How could you ever be with someone like me, huh? What was it again? Don't they know who I am? What I've done? The type of bloodthirsty scumbag murderer I truly am. I am a killer, a fiend, the enemy, even if we've agreed to this much necessary truce. The silent understanding was you needed me to fight on your side so you invited me over. But then what you and me did, that was breaking a silent rule. You weren't supposed to go to bed with me."

He wanted to touch her. His hands ached to slide down her shapely curves and press her warmth to him. This thirst for her was unquenchable but he knew better than to give in. She'd had her chance to speak, well for all demons in hell, now was his. "We all bear selfish hearts don't we? And we all take from each other whatever we need. You needed my alliance; I needed the basics to live. But fucking in secret, well that wasn't part of the deal, and God forbid you like it." He pulled away slowly, taking a few steps back to fully appreciate her as she looked at him with expectant eyes.

"But see… you inflame my blood Bulma." He breathed. Vegeta kept searching through her body as if looking for answers that only eluded him

She swallowed hard, opening her eyes as wide as they'd go. What the hell was it about his voice that could so easily make her tremble, and the worse was half the time she didn't even know if it was in fear or longing. Not once had she felt so vulnerable and so utterly desired. It had to be that tone. It was like liquid chocolate to her senses or like the touch of sheer velvet against her skin. It was his body language that screamed her name and made her give in.

"So I made you something you don't even deserve. I made you my woman, my concubine, the consort to a Prince, when in reality you're even lower than a common whore." He seethed. "And don't you dare believe that tear running down your cheek will wash that fact away."

She turned her face to the side and closed her eyes hating the idea of a man so strong witnessing such weakness. He despised it to no end and that truth alone made her want to bite back the terrible sting of those crystal drops, yet once again, she met her own failure and so they streamed softly down the smooth skin of her cheeks.

"A whore may be filthy and lowly, but she at least recognizes who she is, what she wants and what she likes. She doesn't deny the truth of it all, but you… you're a little two faced bitch that hides in the shadows."

She felt something swell inside her chest, the most genuine type of rage that rushed to erupt from her lips. Her words were heavily laden with abject pain. "You don't know… you don't know what it's like to be me." Tears spilled from her blue eyes unhindered, and at that very moment he thought he could literally see her soul peer through them. The grief contained in them was immeasurable and the emotion choking her made her words break in half. "My life is not about what I want or who I am or what my heart desires. It's about who I am supposed to be. I don't have a choice or a saying, or the right to be free and think only about myself. Do you even know what it's like to be born with your life already laid out for you? To hear the voices of others echo in your head over and over again, about the things you ought to do, and the expectations you ought to fulfill? You try and you try… with blood and sweat and tears to become what you're supposed to be, that vision they had for you, but you can't. You try and you can't. And you don't know how to get there, or where the answer lies or why you should even care. But you do, every day of your life you do until you feel your going to break into a million pieces. You may stray, you may tell yourself you are worth more than that. That you're valuable for simply being, for simply breathing. You stray from that path you follow like a penitent soul…but they never quiet. The voices inside can never be silenced, and you can't just turn around and say goodbye, or disappear forever because there's no one else who can do what you're supposed to do. No one else can take your place. No one will. This weight has been placed on you and you alone…" a big drop fell from her chin to the carpet as her eyes burned with sorrow. "And you feel you weight three times your body, and it's heavy… it's so very heavy…" Her throat contracted with a sob and the words flowed out like a plaintive melody. "And it never ends..."

Vegeta stared at her unable to utter a word. He wasn't sure what it was, but something shifted within him that very moment. Her speech sank like an anvil inside him, reminding him of thoughts he never voiced and emotions that could never surface. And yet here they were hanging between them, tying them together like an invisible rope. His enemy, his drug… his conscience turned woman. And so he breathed shakily, still shocked by the fact that he did know… by all the Gods, he DID know what it was like to… He quieted his thoughts and looked at the paling beauty of her face once more before slowly approaching her.

She raised her eyes to his and whispered the plea of a bleeding soul. "You…, you make me who I truly am… and it's scary and I don't know were it leads. It's a place I can't go, a path I can't walk. Vegeta… I can't… I just can't…"

He lifted her chin between his fingers and searched into her eyes. There weren't words, yet their eyes spoke volumes as they remained locked together. And it was a moment of glorious passion and epic sorrow that would be theirs to keep forever as they silently acknowledged this secret they shared, this impossible and forbidden passion they suffered together.

"So it is..." With that whisper he brought his lips down and kissed her, the very first true kiss they ever shared, spun by threads of something other than sick passion and thirst for domination. He tasted the salt of her tears in her trembling lips and she savored the power of his need for her in his own, and that's when she realized it perhaps took someone this strong to truly hate, but it also took so much to truly love.

He pulled away while the passions still melt over their tongues, restraining his desire and pressing his forehead to hers. He breathed hard under the weight of his indecision for he didn't know what came next in this rocky path that was their life, nor he wanted to think about it. Yet, Gods, he had to didn't he? There was no running, no escaping the truth of this scenario, the bitter reality that they simply couldn't _be_, in any shape, way or form.

Bulma breathed through her nose, her nose a bit stuffy from crying. She closed her burning eyes and spoke quietly. "This is the end, isn't it? This is you and me and what it will always be." He remained quiet and she went on. "But if that's so, if this is how it dies… could you at least let me see who you really are, just for once?"

He whispered against her cheek. "See who I really am?"

She nodded towards the little round table where she'd laid her empty glass of champagne. Right next to it was a rectangular black case he hadn't noticed before, it's chrome lining shining in the light of the room. He turned back to look at her, an inquisitive look in his eye but she didn't say anything, her tired eyes only darted sideways to point in its direction again and so he took the cue. He willed it forth with only the power of his ki and one second later it lay safely in his hand.

The force of his energy was still restraining her but thankfully her arms were mobile, allowing her to grab the case and pry it open. The tiny Teflon gun was revealed, a sort of high-end medical trinket that was obviously designed to pump the viscous red liquid it contained inside.

"What the hell is that?" He said, knitting his eyebrows.

She held the gun in her hand and brought it up slowly, not once taking her eyes away from his black ones. "Will you let me?"

"Let you?" He grabbed her wrist and regarded her with mild concern. "You're crazy, and whatever you're talking about is surely some machination of your deranged mind."

She smiled weakly, feeling a tinge of warmth at how vulnerable he suddenly appeared. "The serum in the first chamber contains thousands of tiny nanobots that act as receivers to a particular energy wavelength, or should I say, a specific radioelectrical frequency."

He was looking back and forth from the gun to her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a snarl. "Cut the technical babble and get to the point."

She sighed but the tiny smile on her lips never wavered. "Think of these microscopic bots as tiny radio receivers that are designed to pick up one single frequency, the unique frequency of your ki, or don't we all have a unique ki print? I think there's still much you need to learn in that respect."

"Radioelectrical receivers?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yes…perfectly attuned to the wavelengths of your brain so that the host is hypothetically able to infiltrate the subconscious. But the emitter still holds control over what one gets to see. The ego still polices the second layer of the mind, so I won't go anywhere you don't let me go. Either the host or the receiver decides when it ends, and once it's over, the nanobots biodegrade. I suppose you can call them disposable."

He eyed the device suspiciously.

"Here… let go of my wrist so I can show you the mechanism…"

Vegeta was utterly bewildered, still unable to understand why he'd subject himself to such a strange experiment. And that was his mistake, for as he stood confounded he loosened his hold and was completely unprepared for her sudden movement. Before he even realized what she'd done, she'd pressed the gun to the tender flesh below her chin, where her pulse lay and shot the contents into herself.

He snatched the gun in a flash and threw it aside before grabbing her waist to him. "What did you just do?" He whispered. Blood began trickling down her nostril as her eyelids fluttered.

"Bulma…" He released the hold of his ki on her and used only his arms to press her body to him. What was happening to her? For the love of all things unholy… was she truly this reckless. Something constrained in his chest and it manifested in the form of rage. "Answer me dammit, what's happening to you? What did you just do?"

"It's your choice. Let me go… or let me in. If you don't inject the serum on yourself, the one on the gun's second chamber, the nanobots that act as emitters by amplifying the wavelength…" She closed her eyes and her body suddenly went limp in his arms.

"What? If I don't inject it, then what?"

She regained what little force she could as the highly experimental serum flooded into her cerebral cortex. "If my nanobots don't start picking up signal they'll short-circuit. So, Vegeta… you see… you win."

His eyes widened and his brow crinkled at the sudden realization of her words. She was dying. The shapely lips still retained the ghost of a smile as her skin went damp with the shock her body was experiencing. Why… why would she do this? _Do what, you stupid motherfucker?!,_ he told himself. Make your life easier? What was he complaining about anyway? It was here, right now, the easy way out of this entire predicament and yet as she cringed in his arms he couldn't let go.

He willed the gun back to his hand and aimed it at his own neck, all the while holding her in his powerful arm.

"If you can hear me, girl, tell me why I am doing this."

And with that the world went black, he fell apart inside and was lost to himself. And in that moment neither him nor her were aware how they fell to the carpet together, Vegeta holding her in his arms and leaning his head against the wall.

--

It smelled like roses, the roses in her mother's garden. It was the first thing on her mind the minute she opened her eyes and realized she was laying down on a bed of red petals. It was warm and sunny and the room was basked in the kind of fuzzy light that exists only in the most perfect morning.

She sat up, the petals sliding down from her hair as she scanned the place with her eyes. It was small but the walls were richly decorated with strange carvings that resembled beautiful anthropomorphic creatures and menacing ape-like beasts. She seemed to be completely alone, but there was a strange sense of peace and glory in this place and she genuinely thought she'd never felt safer. The breeze and the light… they made her want to breathe.

She stood up, overtaken by how simple yet refined the room was. There was nothing in it but the surface she'd been lying on, and an enormous mirror on the wall. Where was she? What was this supposed to be? All she could think of was finding some sort of answer by looking at her reflection. Maybe therein lay a clue.

She strode towards the ample mirror and when she looked into it… Bulma gasped and covered her mouth in utter shock.

She knew she was pretty, there was no sense denying that, but this was ridiculous. She was absolutely, fantastically beautiful, in the most sublime sense of the word. Her hair glimmered as if it had been spun from threads of sapphire and silver and her skin was completely poreless like she'd been born with the complexion of a goddess. In fact, it was as if every one of her best features had been magnified exponentially and all her flaws were entirely nonexistent. Her eye sparkled like endless oceans, her lips the deepest shade of burgundy. The glow of her aura reminded her of the images of saints and virgins she'd witnessed at the richest cathedrals. She could have been fooled into thinking that's exactly what she was if it weren't for the fact that her clothing didn't look too chaste. She was wearing a white silk gown that clung to her body like a second skin, leaving her back, arms and a good portion of her breasts exposed. And boy did those look specially big and round today. Was she some sot of erotic angel? Answers eluded her and awe overwhelmed her.

She felt completely inspired by such beauty and such light flooding the room and she relished the fresh crisp air that reminded her of the minutes following dawn. The place was flooded in morning breeze, carrying forth the perfume of roses. This was safe and fresh and pretty, and she suddenly thought she never wanted to leave. In truth, she might live transfixed in this very moment for all eternity.

"You shouldn't be here".

It was the sound of a young child, perhaps ten years old. She abandoned her reflection and sought him with her eyes until she spotted him there, in a corner of the room. Why hadn't she noticed him before, or the beautiful fireplace he sat in front of? It was framed by carvings of double-headed creatures, one head ape the other…the other human? It stood there imposingly as the boy piled log after log in its interior.

"Excuse me?" She couldn't see his face, only his tiny frame crouched with its back to her as he performed his task.

"I said you shouldn't be here." He repeated. "You're going to get us into trouble. You seem to have a knack for that."

She narrowed her eyes at him and studied his figure. He was small and he looked completely cuddly, in his white boots and something that seemed like a navy blue velvet suit that fit him snugly. Was he wearing a short skirt on top of that, reaching just below his bottom?

"No… you dolt." He snapped and stood up finally facing her. Indeed it wasn't a skirt, it just kind of looked that way from behind. It was more like a black cloth made out of some sort of very luxurious fabric draped around his waist and gathered at the front by a beautiful silver buckle which was engraved with a family crest.

"It's a Kaltan. You can say it's a special kind of belt that drapes down to the sides and it's tied at the front with our clan's insignia."

Bulma stared into his eyes in raw fascination. "Oh… I… I'd just never seen something like that before. It's actually quiet stylish." She was too engrossed in deciphering the wonder this child was, beyond the foreign outfit and the fact that he seemed to be able to read her mind. It was his face that most marveled her. His cheeks were rosy even with his tanned complexion, and his wide eyes were black as midnight. The dark auburn locks were shiny and long and a few stray bangs fell over eyelashes that would be any woman's envy. In short, the kid was a doll.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and eyed her from head to toe before crouching back before the fireplace. "Just forget about it. It doesn't matter."

"Wait" Bulma took a step in his direction. "Can I ask you something? I was looking at my image on the mirror and…I am actually still half-stupefied. I just don't know…"

"You don't know who that is looking back at you? And you are the girl who's called a genius… Who else would your reflection be but yourself?"

She touched her hand to her chest and looked down at the gown she was wearing. "But why…I don't understand why I look so…"

The child turned around to face her. His eyes were completely innocent under those heavy bangs as he stared up at her. "Different? What do you mean different. It's the way you've always been since I met you."

He stated it matter of factly and that's when she knew there was not an ounce of malice in his voice. He was completely convinced he was telling the truth.

Bulma's eyes narrowed and she parted her lips in amazement. She brought her fingertips to her mouth and swallowed a gasp. This was who he saw every time he looked at her, the way he saw her deep in his subconscious. This vision that shone with a light of her own was his subconscious's corporeal concept of her.

"Ve…Vegeta?" She suddenly wanted to reach out to him and drink him in, to grab him into her arms in a never-ending embrace.

"Shhh! Night's befalling us soon, night like there's never been before."

She saw him throw the last log into the fireplace. "Is that why you're doing that? But I don't understand. It's only morning. Don't you see the light engulfing us? Such beautiful warmth embracing us…"

He reared his head and looked at the ample window. "Sure genius girl. Now, don't you see the sun rapidly setting? It will be cold and bitter and they will come. They will come for us."

Her eyes took in the truth of his words as the light filtering through the windows faded at an unnatural rate. It died down so quickly it was only a few seconds before it was pitch black and she had to restrain a cry of fear.

A sudden tremor shook the entire structure. It was like the sound of distant thunder as it made the room reverberate.

"Didn't I tell you, you shouldn't be here?" A tiny glow escaped the fireplace and he came into view again, showered by the light of the flames he had somehow sparked on it. "I feared the day they would waken, and today they finally have and it's you they are after first and foremost. And when they are through with you, then it's unto me." His voice was ominous and even though there were shreds of apprehension in his posture, there was straight determination in his eyes.

"What? Why?" She breathed. "What are you talking about? Who's "they"?"

The child stepped closer as another quake reverberated through the space between them, and this time it was stronger.

"Because you don't belong here and they can smell your blood. Thanks for that genius girl. They've found out my hideout and they will not stop until they crush you alive and tear out my heart. They've been looking for me, the demons, their thirst never ends, nor does their wrath."

She exhaled nervously and looked at the black expanse outside the window. "But why are you here, alone in hiding? Where's everybody else?"

He shook his head and gave her a somber look, the beautiful face suddenly hardening. Another thunderous vibration rocked the walls. "I don't know. I am alone. I have always been."

"What…" She gaped at him with an expression of frantic awe. "But you are only a child. How can this be? How can your life be nothing but hiding."

"Shut up!" He hissed as the wave of reverberations nearly made them fall.

"Oh God" Bulma moaned terrified. Whatever was approaching them was doing so fast and it seemed not only big but also monstrous.

The child moved quickly and grabbed her hand. "You'd better come with me. We need to get out of here."

With that he dragged her out of the room and into an ample hallway that was dimly lit and lined with multiple doors on either side. She could tell it was flooded with something as they run across it, the hem of her gown suddenly drenched in it.

"Don't pay attention to the blood." The boy commanded as he dragged her through endless corridors while the walls shook violently.

She screamed but didn't let go of his hand one bit as genuine terror flooded her senses. "Blood?!"

"They like to feed on their enemies, to maim and murder and torture and it's the blood of their victims you see."

Bulma's entire body shook uncontrollably.

"Please… don't let go… don't ever let go Vegeta." She whispered in a sob as her feet ran through the crimson rivers.

He suddenly stopped and turned around to face her. "But I have to. It ends here, or you shall perish. Don't you see? Isn't this enough to make you understand that?"

He almost had to yell at her, as the thunder was loud and the tremors coursing through the structure were strong. They were coming… they were surely coming.

"Let me stay here, let us fight this together" She pleaded, tears flooding her eyes.

"I don't need your help. I can fight alone. Didn't I tell you how powerful I was? The strongest kind, the kind that can make you pee your pants." He let go of her hand and looked around to the ceiling. "They're on the roof."

She whimpered and held unto a wall as the floor moved again and nearly made her fall. "I can't leave you alone… I just can't."

He simply scowled at her and threw a door open. "You can and you will and I will face them alone. Don't you see? I can't hide forever and my time has come."

Bulma looked into the deep dark eyes and understood what it was he needed, that all she could really do for him in this war he faced alone was leave. And so she knelt on the floor and cupped his face. All she desired was to memorize this image of innocence, to etch it forever into her mind and soul so he could live inside her forever.

"I finally found you, after so long." Her eyes danced with utmost sorrow as she spoke. "I looked for you through countless days and nights. You eluded me, during those endless nightmares where I would chase you desperately to just get a peek of your face. I almost gave up…" Teardrops burned her cheeks as she opened free the gates of her emotion. "But every pain and every trial, all those times I risked my life. It was worth it, to just get a look at your face… to be here in this very place, this very moment and see into your eyes."

He seemed lost into her as she spoke with raw passion. "Because it's you I always searched for and it's you my heart kept calling for, and to know you are alive… it's the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me." Two crystalline tears dropped down from her chin into his palm and when she looked down she saw they had become sapphires. Vegeta examined their sparkle before holding them in a fist.

She smiled but her face still held that look of sad happiness. Her words were half whispers and half sobs as she felt something deep inside shifting and rearranging. "What I feel for you…. What I feel is like a fire that burns inside and never wavers… and it's here engulfing my soul, my child… for you, forever."

When the ground trembled again they both looked towards the door to the right and back at each other.

"So we should say goodbye." He whispered.

And with that she let go of him as the walls threatened to crumble. She grabbed the front of her dress and ran through the threshold into the dark, still holding his image firmly etched on her mind and not daring one single look behind for fear that she will choose to never leave his side.

End of Part 1

A/N: Chapter 13 coming soon. Love to everyone, especially my sweet keleos who always resurfaces (virtually every chapter until now heh, doesn't go unnoticed). Your reviews make my day babe. Lafemevegeta, three times reading a chapter? You are too amazing. Aliccolo… thank you truly, your email touched me tremendously. Fima…bitter-sweet chocolate with coffee and liquor? Oh that sounds just yummy haha. Aanony… thanks for those wishes, things do seem to be looking up lately ;)

By the way I am working on a second project that hasn't been published yet. It's my way to really delve into the genre of erotica. I can't post it on FF dot net though… hmm.

To all you out there… and I still know who you are… love, Caprice.


	13. Kiss of Death

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Akira Toriyama. Get him to sell them to me.

**A/N: **devinyx, that song was wicked cool. **Warning: **Strong chapter. Not all is pretty. This is a look into the mind of Vegeta. You do the math.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 13**

Step 14 - Kiss of Death

When had absolute darkness morphed into the dimly lit passages of a mansion? She wasn't sure, but something was evident. This wasn't earth. That was more than obvious to her eyes as they scanned the obscenely sumptuous world she had stepped into. The hall was trimmed in red and gold tapestries, lined by sculptures of characters that looked every bit as divine as they looked menacing. They were large and heavy, ascending to a towering height so they hovered over her completely. The bizarre creatures intertwined on the ceiling to cast their overbearing presence over her, like angels and demons from lands unknown who witnessed the damned as they waked the somber corridors.

She dragged her way through them, the lower portion of her dress soaked in blood and clinging to her legs as she marched heavily. She finally gathered the crimson folds to her, listening to her own breathing echo through the halls like the agonizing pants of a terminally ill patient. The atmosphere was so oppressive she had to brace herself on the walls, spurring herself on to make it to the end. It was a challenge to retain the fortitude of her spirit and remember that old blazing passion that had driven her to this very moment. She was here to be the sole witness to his truth.

No one said it'd be easy and she didn't expect it to be, yet her energy threatened to abandon her, every breath infinitely difficult. The pressure in her chest hiked and her heart struggled to keep beating like the frailest bird fluttering in a brutal trap. Go forth. Keep going, it sang with every pump, and so she did until she reached the room at the end of the hall. With the will of her soul her clammy hands opened the double doors so her sea blue eyes could gaze upon the shrine within.

She remained still as the richness of the place registered. A single glance was more than enough to convince her of the solemnity of the room and to realize this was surely a place of religious veneration, symbol of pious devotion and righteousness.

The room was grandiose, built for one single person to preside here over the fate of nations. Towards one end there stood a wide surface made of a sturdy type of crystal. The carpet was lush and the curtains black silk, embroidered with what looked like mandala symbols from completely foreign places. She understood their alien nature, a mystical proof of the theological richness of some faraway solar system she'd most likely never visit. Her eyes latched unto the flickering red flame that glowed over a pit in the corner of the room surrounded by crystal vases full of shiny coins and glimmering jewels. She immediately alighted on the truth, that this was unlimited opulence built over the devotion of the religious masses.

Through the entire far side, which was all windows, she could see a planet as colorful as Jupiter infused in a red glow, so wide it filled the entire view. Such beauty… such poetry, she told herself with eyes transfixed by the surreal vision before her. She could have surrendered to the most complete form of amazement, while the eyes of a scientist and mostly an earthling gazed upon a gem of the most recondite region of deep space. She could have been lost in the moment, except a frosty wind rushed in through the window, fluttering the curtains in its wake and sending a cold chill up her spine. It was enough to wake her up to a certain realization. This was so tangible there was no doubt it was a vivid memory, something that had been as real as the somersaulting of her stomach.

It was a figment of his mind from a place and a time unknown to her and she suddenly felt insignificant. Could anyone ever truly understand who he was who didn't see the places he did or witnessed the reality of outer space? This grandeur, this sophistication so enormous and beyond anything conceivable to a human, it was… overtaking. No, she realized. She still didn't know him at all. She had barely started to do so tonight, looking through his eyes as she walked the twisted roads of his mind. It was enough to understand one simple truth; we are all a product of our former experiences, those places we've been and people we've met. The hardships endured and joys experienced. And for the looks of this place alone, this life he led before setting foot in Chikyuu was too terribly beautiful and fatally gorgeous… just like him.

She suddenly noticed the figure sitting on a wide chair in the shadows of the place, patterns of smoke emanating from his direction and dispersing like incense. He wore darkness like a cloak, almost like he belonged in it, so perfectly enveloped she couldn't tell who it was, but he wasn't alone. Two creatures resembling some type of canines slept at his feet while he remained there quiet and deeply immersed in his thoughts and his solitude. Like he liked it, she thought… like he was waiting for something and enjoying himself in the mean time.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and she would have said a word. In fact she was about too, but that very instant the door burst open and a couple barged in entangled in a heated embrace, their hands all over each other's body and their tongues eager to play. The male was a large man, dressed in a long dark robe with a red sash tied around his waist and the woman, well there was barely anything covering her at all. They staggered towards the table and the man dropped her on top as he worked what flimsy clothing concealed her chest. She was marveled at how human they looked, so anthropomorphic the only thing giving away their alien heritage was the unnatural tint of their green irises.

She became privy to the fact that they couldn't see or hear her, not them nor the strange character who remained ensconced in his anonymity, and even though things replayed before her as product of a memory, the sights, the smells and the sounds unraveled with crystal clear clarity.

The exuberant female was already laying on the crystal table top and the stocky man grinning lecherously, and she wondered at the purpose of this whole scenario. It was the thought fleeting through her mind when all of a sudden everything changed. It was quick like the flash of lightening or the sound of thunder, making her and the couple jolt in surprise at the same time. The light on the jewel studded fixture over the ceiling flickered on and the eyes of the lovers widened in absolute shock as the intruder came into full view.

Bulma thought her chin would surely hit the floor the moment she took him in. He was sitting there, wearing black armor with golden buckles over his chest and a thick weapon strapped over his right arm that looked almost like a long bracelet, yet deadly nonetheless. He looked like a creature of the night, extremely comfortable inhaling the smoke from the long black cigarette between his fingers as he sat back witnessing the startled pair that stared agape. It was a hard task taking her eyes off of him, with the mindboggling outfit and the stylish heavy boots and…

She shrieked in horror when she spotted the beasts on the floor flanking him, their unsightly heads rearing as they woke from their morose state. One thing was certain; they were the most god-awful horrid damn dogs she'd ever seen, the perfect manufacture of the most terrible nightmare. In fact, she supposed she couldn't even call them dogs, really. They had enormous maws with shark-like teeth that foamed and drooled as if they were rabid. They had the thick musculature of steroid riddled rottweilers, except their skin wasn't silky and furry, it was completely bare so they were the color of flesh, and that second she was sure they must have been conceived in the deepest most hellish pit of space.

The two demon-like animals looked at their master as if expecting some sort of command, yet he remained passive. She supposed only someone like _him_ could exert such dominance over heinous monsters like those. She was sure this was the Prince, surely him. She could feel her blood boil the way it only did in his presence.

"What's the matter chancellor? Don't let my presence deter you from indulging in your private pastimes. By all means, do finish what you started." He said with a sly smile and hard eyes.

"What the... how did you get into my private study?!" The man seethed. He looked positively frozen regarding him with eyes as wide as saucers. He was almost as pale as the woman, who'd been shrieking all the while and was now shaking uncontrollably. Her gaze never left the beasts on the carpet.

Vegeta chuckled ominously. "I can't say I blame you for being so shocked, but I trust that you and I will come to much warmer terms in no time. Still, allow me to ignore that pretty pointless question you just made and cut to more important matters. Aren't you going to ask me the most obvious of all things? I'd be fucking disappointed if you didn't."

The man bared his pointed fangs and hissed. He trembled in what could only be described as terminal fury. "How… how did you manage to escape? You should be rotting in that dungeon they left you, you sick son of a bitch, feeding of the decaying corpses of those you killed and drinking your own damn piss!"

"Oh yeah, quite a treat that was and I will fully repay you for such gentleness, it shall not go unnoticed." Vegeta's tone had suddenly changed to deadly and Bulma felt dread creep up on her as the event unfolded. "It has been the most pleasant year of my life." He added. "Total deprivation of light is one hell of a thing."

"Well I don't care how you did it. I suppose your overlord wound up buying the courts that locked you up like the despicable vermin you are, but know this… I will stop at nothing until you go back to prison and never see the light of day again. One year light deprivation in the pitch black of that hole will seem like vacation compared to what they'll do to you next time." The man nearly foamed from the mouth, sputtering and gesticulating with indignity. "I saw you singlehandedly subject entire populations of this system into slavery but as chancellor of the region I'd rather die then surrender any more of it to you." He took a step closer, eyes becoming like those of snakes while he mouthed the threats.

"And I will keep pressing charges against you over and over again, you can be damn certain of that. You will suffer the delightful caress of the acid whip against your flesh one more time. Do tell me, was it good? Did you enjoy that? I am sure the torture wasn't disappointingly mild. Oh I heard you never confessed, not once did you plead for them to stop, but if you never said a word, your raw torn up flesh sure spoke volumes for you in that universal language we can all understand. Gushing blood."

He braced his weight on the table and darted hateful eyes towards Vegeta. "This time it won't be a year, this time it will for the extent of your vile existence. But don't worry boy, we'll throw in more leeches. They probably make for nice snacks."

Bulma backed up until her back hit a wall, forgetting to breath and attempting to puzzle out the words spouted by the raging man. The enormity of it all clouded her brain making it impossible to digest what he was truly saying. She couldn't conceive such hate and such horror, or so much pain for that matter.

Vegeta merely stared, inhaling one more time the thick heady smoke of that fragrant cigarette before flicking it away. She realized then she couldn't really recognize his expression at all. She'd truly never seen him like this before. His eyes were like glimmering daggers of death, pupils narrowed to a certain manic concentration that could make any living breathing creature loose bowel control. Luscious burgundy lips broke into a sideways smile so cold her blood felt like it was freezing.

"Interesting." He said in a voice hoarsened by barely contained contempt. "Now before that happens we have matters to tend to, for you see, your attitude is most certainly unfortunate. Regardless of your sins against the Ice-jin empire, our position has been nothing but forgiving." He rose gallantly, an expression of smoldering hostility vanquishing his face. "But you keep turning us down. You'd rather refuse our offerings and poison the courts against us. Is it truly so difficult to acquiesce Chancellor. Have we not been graceful enough?"

The two monstrous creatures sat up, snorting through their nostrils like horses and licking their fangs in expectation. They analyzed him like they were under some sort of incantation, utterly in love with their master and loyal to no end.

"And slavery? What the empire brought to those broken-down shabby planets on the outer rim? I take offense to that truly, knowing fully well they are now protectorates of such a powerful dominion." He grinned and spread his arms open acquiring the posture of someone magnanimous, like a dark angel who brought peace by death and progress by blood upon the worlds he walked.

"Rape, and murder and servitude, is that the protection of your rotten empire? You are the miasma that spreads over the galaxy like a black cloak of decadence. So you listen to me, you despicable monster, someone has got to stop you, and if it's in my power to do so, then by all means I will. You race of exterminators, messengers of death and destruction!"

Vegeta laughed, that eerie sound that could be both provocative and downright scary. He looked even more handsome as his baying laughter resounded, glimmering eyes and the smirk of a demon gracing the pretty angles of his face. How old was he here, 20? "That is fucking beautiful. It flatters me to no end."

The woman on the table darted her eyes nervously from one creature to the other as they straightened their hind legs to stand on all four. She whimpered and scrambled back over the table in panic, nearly convulsing. Vegeta let his eyes skim the woman with an almost sensuous appreciation that made Bulma swallow hard. "And just were the hell is the wife, chancellor? Is she tucked away with your children sleeping soundly while you fuck your whore?"

"Listen to me you little…"

"No YOU listen to me you damn fucking shit." He interrupted, taking extremely slow steps in his direction. "You are through talking and I am through hearing."

The woman wailed as tears raked down her anguished face, burning her flesh in their wake. "I am going to make you an offer you are not going to refuse."

The man threw his weight back, his face shaken. "I think it's more than evident I don't take bribery from you fiends…" His voice broke in mid-sentence, betraying his intention to remain firm. Then Bulma realized that urine was already pooling beneath him and so noticed the heathen beasts who perked up their short triangular ears.

"Oh but I am not going to offer you wealth or things as such." Vegeta slid his hand up over the woman's nape and sifted his fingers through her hair with incredible gentleness. He then grabbed the limp threads and pulled her to him fiercely. She was shaking so wildly, her throat emitting breaths so ragged in terror Bulma felt the instinct to save her surging inside her. But she couldn't move a single muscle as she stood stuck to the wall, impotence wearing her down into abject desolation.

Vegeta's strong arms embraced the tremulous woman, his hot breath beating on the white skin of her neck as he spoke. "My gracious offer is to actually let you retain your life. Am I not compassionate Chancellor? The most invaluable offer possible and all you need to do in return is stop motherfucking poking the courts. Allow the entry, lift up the shields to central planet… let the emperor meet with your dignitaries and facilitate the talks. No one wants bloodshed."

"Nn... never." He grated, trembling like a leaf and losing the battle with his nerves.

"Oh…" Vegeta husked in mock discontent, the back of his hand trailing the softest of touches down the woman's cheek. "How disappointing."

He smelled her hair, burying his nose deep into her blonde locks while she clenched her eyes and bit her fingers to quiet her desperate sobs. "So unfortunate." He added, unlocking her from his embrace to step back.

"Yet the offer stands, regardless of such a display of poor manners. I trust that after tonight you will fully appreciate the weight of all I so selflessly give." He sent him a smile as hard as granite, cocking his head to the side and glowering ominously. He drifted towards the window as if he had all the time in the world before turning to eye him heavily once more.

The man merely backed into the wall, fear ransacking his body as he awaited some sort of twisted fate he couldn't even begin to fathom.

"And as a bonus I leave you my pets. They are very well trained and respond obediently to my command. I am sure you will surely appreciate them as the rare and fine creatures they are…" He directed his gaze to them for a moment before latching eyes back on him. "It's a pity I haven't been able to feed them properly in a while… rather careless and cruel of me and a fucking bad way to repay their companionship. I must say they do have a particular taste for women. I hope you don't mind them borrowing a meal."

The woman screamed in terror, shaking violently and curling into a ball over the crystal surface.

Vegeta merely chuckled deep in his throat and turned to leave. He whistled peculiarly before disappearing into the thickness of the night, some sort of private command the monsters caught on to immediately.

What followed made Bulma scrape the walls, her nails raking through them in an attempt to find the door amidst the panic. But she couldn't... the exit that would deliver her from the horrors of the universe seemed to have disappeared, trapping her in a monstrous freak show she couldn't wake up from.

Her screams mixed with those of the woman, each one higher than the other as if her torment was hers. She howled raw cries of terror as she witnessed torn flesh and crunched bone in a display of blood that splattered the beautiful curtains and refined crystal ornaments around. Red sprayed against her own face and all she managed to do is smear it with the back of her porcelain hand in a futile attempt to wipe it away. She didn't quit her laments until she felt she'd snap her vocal chords, arms trembling uncontrollably while she covered her mouth and slid down to the floor. She lost the sense of time as she settled quivering eyes over the crimson spectacle, trapped in visions of flesh slapping against the surfaces. Her own screeches dulled her senses until all in her mind were the vivid details of the artwork of her very own man, the man that had somehow ended owning her.

The chancellor had passed out a long time ago, yet she remained awake until all the beasts did was lick the table. She ended up crouching down against the wall shaking and wailing like a little girl dispensing the sorrow of a lifetime. It poured through her eyes until her tears dried up and her vision faded to black.

--

She woke up to the sound of her own sobs and the sight of the world she actually belonged to. The same comforting room, the rich Victorian draperies and the shimmering fireplace, it was all there, as she'd left it for what seemed like hours. How long had it truly been? A few minutes at most, she gathered, but life inside his mind transcended like days of beauty and horror.

He was gasping, holding her to him with his head leaning against the wall as they lay there on the carpet. He was the reason her heart ached, that she knew fairly well, but she clung to him regardless, inhaling his scent and relishing his warmth. She needed him, right here, right now, to take away this sorrow and hold her while she cried. And the tears flowed from her eyes down his shoulder, like glimmering beads of crystal. She cried for it all, for him and for her and for the fact that she wished she could fix the world in its entirety and she felt too weak to do so.

"How could you…" She whispered against his warmth. "Why did you…"

Vegeta remained quiet, his breath slowly evening out while he strived to regain the strength that had somehow left him. He raised his hand to cup her cheek and stare into the face of the one woman who'd seen an iota of his inner darkness. "Don't attempt to understand." Is all he voiced quietly, before disentangling his arms and rising to his feet.

"She was so young." Bulma wept. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Vegeta allowed himself to look at the pain in her eyes, and after doing so he bitterly realized it was too complete and thorough.

He frowned and closed his own, walking away to shield the emotions that were slowly creeping up to his face. "You had no right to do what you did and hence no right to question anything either." His eyes darted over to her in fury, like blazing coals. "I should have let you die by your own hand, you manipulative little bitch."

He was sure this was it. She was going to up and run any minute, traumatized by his past and the notorious evil he'd wrought upon countless lives. Ah but how easy it was to reflect on it now, with eyes coated by a sense of righteousness bestowed by this woman who had always pretended to be his judge. How much did she loath him now that she understood the depth of his sins? How much more were they at a contrast now? She was a Chikyuu-jin enchantress that walked the path of justice and lived the life of a pampered princess and him a wicked monster. He tried to taint her, to make her indulge in her dark side, yet deep down inside he knew… it was true she hadn't once been exposed to the horrors of this universe, or to the likes of him. It was true her hands were soft and immaculate like petals of a white rose in contrast to his. The rough life of a criminal had nothing to do with her.

But if she truly believed she was above him, if she deemed him nothing but a murderer… why was she here now, with him still? Why had she risked her life to look into this world and go to such dark depths? She looked like a forlorn child, sitting there, gazing up at him, every bit an angel of justice as she was an angel of light. She was made of fresh air and the perfumes of flowers. She was a witch as much as she was his blanket of warmth. It was her voice he now heard deep inside, whispering words of encouragement in the midst of his inner wars, and it was her eyes the ones who'd witness what it was like to wrestle with the phantoms of his soul.

He walked over to her again, blinded by an uncontrollable urge to not lose himself in thoughts of her. The truth is he'd saved her for some reason incomprehensible to him and that was perhaps the most frightening sensation he'd felt. It was stronger than anything encountered in his sinister life.

He gathered her in his arms and shook her as he looked into her eyes. "Why did you do it?" He rasped against her face. "Tell me why?"

Bulma's vision never left his as she responded, "Because I could. I will never go down without a fight. You thought I was that girl you could just take over in mind and body yet you have no idea what I am capable of. It was me who took over your mind and body tonight. Did you even see it coming?" She uttered a shaky breath and fixed her stare on his unforgiving one. "I know what you want to do to me now. I know the price I have to pay, but it was worth it, just to say I did it."

He saw his reflection on the shiny tears still glistening on her eyes and hardened his face in response. "What you did girl, is unforgivable. I am at least glad now you know what I am truly capable of."

The sheer intensity with which she looked at him made him crinkle his brow. He expected terror and reproach from her, a little more of those emotions she had displayed after waking, but this was something he couldn't put a name to. Her soft ruby lips opened to gift him with the softest whisper. "You don't have to say that. It's in the past now… whatever you did before, so many years ago is long gone. It doesn't have to be that way anymore."

Vegeta eyed her disbelievingly, her wide blue eyes beginning to shimmer with something that looked like… like hope? Like faith.

Her gentle voice was carrying in the quiet of the room. There was only the sound of fire as it crackled while they remained locked in each others eyes. "Evil is dead, Frieza is dead. And the universe has been freed from its grasp. No more destruction or terror. He's dead Vegeta…can't you see that? And life now is about freedom."

Vegeta frowned darkly and his eyes quivered in barely suppressed emotion. "Don't say a word. Don't even dare." He hissed, holding her chin firmly in his hand. "It never ends."

"He's DEAD" She screamed into his face. "Dead! Don't let him take you away with him too!"

The courage in her eyes made something twinge deep inside him. It was like sun shining brutishly over barren wastelands. What the hell was she saying? Did she actually think she had the right to understand? To pretend she had a quick easy fix to a twisted path of thorns? Well she didn't have the littlest clue.

"He's never dead!" Vegeta roared furiously, abandoning her to take a few steps back. "And whatever it is you saw in there, innocence, childlike purity, it's all a mere illusion…"

"I saw it" She strained her voice to quiet his. "I saw it with my own eyes. Don't you lie to me now."

Vegeta breathed through his teeth and shot her a deadly glare. "Don't you dare keep overstepping your boundaries girl, not more than you already have. And don't you fucking dare pretend to reform me. I am not your little project!"

Bulma chose to remain quiet, suddenly aware of his seething rage and her own nakedness. It made her feel oddly vulnerable. She quickly scurried to pick up the black sheer robe she'd discarded before and wrapped it around her body. Gods he was pissed, not the usual quiet anger he exuded but a completely serious one that seeped through to her clearly. He paced quietly, like he was grappling with all that had transpired there tonight. She figured if he had his tail it would probably be lashing violently side to side now.

Her time was up now and the moment for words was over. It was true she had more than overstepped her boundaries, violating his body, raping his mind and using every bit of her wiles to trick him into it all. But she'd desired this night with all of her soul since the very day she realized she wanted him. To touch him deeply, more than anyone ever had, that hard body, that dazzling mind. To eat him up and devour him completely. She knew she was risking her own life in the process, but somehow along the way, her obsession had grown into a sweet need that knew no limits. This man was terrible for her. He infected her mind with a sick wanton that went beyond all that was rational. He made her reckless and wild, hungry and thirsty all at the same time. There was nothing she wouldn't risk to snag a bit of him, to be his first one, that one girl who went beyond all those other bitches. In her mind he, somehow, was fiercely and invariably hers.

Still, it didn't matter if every inch of her body longed for him. She'd wanted to show him she would never be broken, that she was still a free thinking woman and a genius at that. She was sure she'd impressed the hell out of him tonight, making him feel what it was to be nothing but an object of lust, the same way she'd felt under the covers as their bodies slid together in a tangled sweaty heap. She'd shown him she wasn't afraid. And as dessert, not just his body but his mind too. Maybe now that she'd sated this insane craving for him her soul would be appeased. But after all said and done she was sure it was time for the end. Would he kill her at last now?

Bulma lifted her eyes to, their irises gleaming like sapphires as they spoke silent resignation. They were also daring him to do his worse and strike her with the last blow. He'd save her life before by shooting the nanobots into his bloodstream, but she was more than sure he had ulterior reasons. He didn't want her stealing the right from him to be her executioner. He probably wanted to squander the life out of her with his very own hand.

He came to a halt and raised an eye to her. Someone should paint such fierce beauty, she absently thought, sickly glad this would be the last image she'd ever see as she was sent to the next world, a vision of that royal posture and absolute command. She'd take with her the feel of those hard muscles so lean and shaped to perfection in the fires of war. Deep inside she'd carry the sensations he could provoke in a woman, so much decadent pleasure and such torrid need, how he knew exactly where to touch a girl and make her scream in delight.

She wanted him, even now as she stood there paralyzed awaiting her dark fate. Even though he'd surely be the one to choke the life out of her now with those same fingers that once spun bliss. He was her man. He was the last binge of adventure before departing earth, heiress to a fortune and slave to her own passions.

She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, tensing her muscles until they became as rigid as a wooden board. And she waited patiently for the kiss of death. She could feel him approaching, the unmistaken heat of his body slowly enveloping her body as he moved. Suddenly his touch was on her, warm and soft as it slid up the small of her back until his fingers curled over her dainty neck. Her lips trembled slightly but she was oblivious to the instinctive reaction of her body. She abandoned her mind and left it empty as she concentrated on what she was sure would be her last breath. And in that one moment of nothingness, her everything was him.

Her skin was so silken, pure and limpid… almost like porcelain. Naquered and tremulous to his touch. And her fragrance, the fear and the lust intermingled into this peculiar scent made him think of wildflowers. She was all the perfection he never knew or ever dreamed would get to touch, yet here he was tainting it. Her breath, her face, her taste, her tongue, he wanted it all… that and beyond. Her life, her mind, her will and also her beauty.

One snap, it was all it would take to render her body lifeless and make her unblemished skin bruise. One movement of his wrist and air would leave this sinless creature he took to hell with him every night. Every evening she wrestled like a fragile bird in the cage of his arms, and even though she did, she wound up more his woman. Images of him pinning her down, sinking into her body drenched his thoughts completely until that familiar sense of lust tightened his groin. Yes, one snap and it was over, but her lips were as luscious as pomegranates, shapely and juicy. Her curves perfect to his particular taste and needs and the flavor of her skin the only brand he wanted. She was his sacrifice, the virgin mauled over a stone to appease the fury of his demons. So absolutely sublime, awaiting her death without struggle. So infinitely his.

It happened too fast for her to register. Instead of the suffocating touch of death, she felt the swirl of the wind as he quickly spun her around to trap her against him, her back fully pressed against the smooth hardness of his chest.

"Didn't I tell you you don't get the easy way out?" He whispered in her ear. "You don't get any sort of absolution."

Bulma let his clean breath sent a tremor through her body. His mouth was so close to hers she almost felt like turning her head enough to give in to his lips. He was exactly all that was wrong with her. He was going to be the end of her.

"Life can sometimes be much more painful than death." He slurred the words against her neck, making her roll her eyes underneath her closed lids. "But I won't touch you tonight; In fact I won't make you mine again. Not until the day you come to me out of your own free will. And make no mistake about it, you most definitely WILL. "

She swallowed a gasp, parting her lips and closing her eyes. His sinister words were almost condemning her. The notion of death was better than life devoid of his body. The punishment was almost unbearable to her as she felt the potency of his masculinity entrapping her, his strong thighs against her delicate ones, his powerful arms surrounding her and pressing her to him.

She tried to speak, curling her mouths to utter words he halted before they sprung free. "Your life still belongs to me. Your body, your skin, your everything. It's my playland, mine to touch and savor." He took a whiff at the base of her neck, enjoying the feminine fragrance that made his mind spin. "You are testy, difficult to break girl. You kick like a wild little thing that needs taming."

Bulma clenched her eyes and breathed harshly through her nose. Here it was again, the all-encompassing instinct to fight him, this maddening mix of potent lust and hatred.

"Oh I know what you're thinking. I know you feel the will to fight. I understand that." He breathed against her cheek. "My fierce little Chikyuu-jin female. But those days are over."

Bulma cringed and opened her eyes to mere slits. "Next time I make you mine, as I said, you will come out of your free will and decision. You will give it all to me entirely, mind and body, not holding back an inch. And you will like it, and you will like that you like it." There was absolute certainty in his words, a prophesy and a curse all in one. "I promise you that."

She opened her eyes fully, not really gazing at the room but wrestling with his words. No… she wouldn't ever. She would remain untouched. She would quit her drug and become the sensible responsible woman needed to take charge of her business, her family, her life. The media, the world, they would all be witness to someone reborn, morphed into someone away from scandal. She would be the perfect sensible girl to take over the reigns of that monster that was Capsule Corporation. This man wanted to turn her into his slave when what she truly was a queen.

"I am not your little bitch."

He smiled against her, his teeth grazing her softly. A soft moan escaped his lips. "Let time answer that. You fucked with the wrong man, and in doing so you sealed your own destiny."

Her muscles tightened and her head spun. Yeah… she was well screwed. But she wouldn't go down without a fight. Perhaps she had been ready to relinquish it all at some point tonight, but no longer. She could never neglect the call of her master's voice, pushing her, taunting her to war with him. She still had life to give him shit and by hell he wasn't going to win. She knew he was a man of his own particular code of honor. Pride was all to him, but that was going to be his demise.

"If that's it then know this. Never again will you have me. Not my body, not my mind and definitely not my soul. And I most certainly will never give it all to you out of my own free will."

He chuckled so deeply the sound rumbled in her chest. "Little one, must you always fight me…" His fingers trailed down her neck, his other hand holding her waist firmly and slowly gliding down until he pressed her stomach. "Must you go down in flames?"

Something curled between her thighs, and she suddenly remembered she hadn't even sated her desire for him at all tonight. She hadn't indulged in his size filling her up in sweeping motions with that beautiful precision and that perfect rhythm that made her choke on her own gasps. She'd never feel that again, she'd forgo that wicked feeling of taking him all in, of rapture in his arms as he worked her body like an instrument. Not once would she feel so entirely woman again, nor would she let him toss her around in the sheets to sate their basest needs. Like a doll, on her back, on her stomach, held up, held low… in sensuous seamless motions to posses her body every way possible.

No she wouldn't.

"Didn't you hear me?" She gritted. "I am not your fucking pleasure slave."

He kissed her cheek, his lips scorching her with their heated caress before letting go of her. Bulma's heart had been racing, her knees nearly trembled and so she held on to the wall, scrunching her flimsy robe with the other hand. She closed her eyes and inhaled, not having even realized how shallow her breathing had been all along. Minutes elapsed as she stood there, bracing her weight on the wall and grappling with the curse he had cast over her. His movements were so lithe and perfect she didn't even hear him leave, but she could feel his absence nonetheless. It was oxygen robbed from earth, water taken away from thirst. Pleasure abandoned for pain.

That was his absence. Would he come back for her and if so when? Would he descend upon earth like a fallen angel to claim what was his? And if so… would she heed his call. Like a moth drawn to a flame, like light drawn to darkness, was her fate sealed that way? She attempted to erase him from within as she slid down to the floor but it was his lips she craved, his body she desired. His dark love.

--

That night she waltzed into the shimmering room clad like an ice angel. The place was a paradigm of wealth and refinement and she the perfect creature to preside over it. People walked about in a profusion of elaborate clothing, doused in the most expensive fragrances men could buy but even through their evident power they were all beneath her. She nodded as she weaved her way through the stockholders gathered in this night of cool composure.

The voiced in her head spoke with sibilant echoes, to never again let her strength leave her as it had up in her room while reminiscing over that night three weeks ago. Not once would she reflect on his absence, or on how he'd left her alone and disappeared. He'd vanished like a ghost of desire that never existed. Days had gone by, one by one in their excruciating slowness as she suffered the withdrawal effects of not having him. His arms were absent, his words gone and she had no idea were he was at all. Her vibrant eager flesh had turned to the ashen features of a lifeless doll that now walked the marble floors aimlessly.

And still through this inexplicable rage and sorrow she'd stay true to her word, attending her meetings more diligently than ever and diving into the task of being chairman of the board. She'd built the stakeholder's trust in her one painful day at a time, little by little. The fact that she hated every minute of it, nothing but irrelevant. Her own passions, her love for science and for fashion lay abandoned as she took the burden of this company over her shoulders. Her father deserved that much, regardless of his repetitive remarks that he'd do just fine handling the corporation as he had for the last 30 years.

Bulma stopped in the middle of the sparkling room to regard her dad. He was sitting at a table, being fed tiny éclairs by her mother who was cheerful beyond her normal demeanor. He seemed so much older and frailer every time she saw him, and her heart constricted, making her regain her resolve to go on. This was her family; this was her responsibility, the inheritance that she couldn't free herself from. She was all, the end of the bloodline and the owner of this fate. That she hated business was beyond the point. She was beyond the point.

It was best he'd left her.

Bulma winced, eyes drifting off to the floor in deep despair. That he left… he left her. It rang through her head like a somber tune that would never end. Three weeks ago, without one more word, without at least another peek at his face. Was he ever going to come back again? Would she see him again…

Well, what the hell was the matter with her? It TRULY was best he'd left. And even though what they shared was stronger than any drug, she was better off without it. Life without him was…

She scanned the crowd engaged in pleasantries, the light murmur of their chatter intertwining with the vibrato of violins. Life without him was as it should be, nothing more, nothing less. The melody spread throughout the room with its exquisite finesse, reminding her of the nostalgia of a wailing heart. Or perhaps that's what it sounded like only to her as she stood there in the middle surrounded by the oppressive elegance.

She suddenly felt like she'd drown, like a child lost in a sea of infinite strangers. She spun slowly, searching and searching, alone in the multitude, and she didn't know what she was looking for and it didn't matter. She was exalted above the most powerful characters in this world, and she would reign there alone, perched over a throne of glass and steel and money and power.

A hand grabbed her wrist delicately and just like that the room stopped swirling. Her eyes connected with soulful ones, a handsome face that gifted her with memories of old adventures and marvelous tales that were theirs alone.

"You seemed a bit lost." He said gently, a smile brightening those boyish features that were so so very different from…

"And I felt the need to take you home." He winked at her sweetly, as she opened her eyes to regard him fully. There he was, the rescuer of the evening, dressed in a black suit that complemented him perfectly.

"Must you appear unannounced and frighten me Yamcha." She said in a small voice, the rest of the room suddenly loosing all bearing.

"Only when you need it most." He added playfully pulling her away with him softly. They walked their way through the people in the room until they reached the crystal doors that opened into the enormous terrace of the building. They looked almost like bride and groom, her a vision of white, him attired in black as they left the gathering hand in hand to meet the fresh breeze of the night. The swimming pool to the right rippled softly as the air grazed through it, and it shimmered like molten crystal under the glittering lamps lighting it. Fairy lights adorned the trees and surrounded the walls turning it all into a dreamlike haze that made her feel she was floating.

They reached the railing and gazed out into the city together for brief minutes before she lifted her eyes to study his profile. It was difficult to not get lost in it and suddenly pretend life could be so perfect. A girl in control of her dominion, her subjects gathered in that room to the right, and here, right next to her, the man that could actually give her the rest.

"I always thought you looked pretty in white, although you seldom wore it." He said, bracing his weight on the stone surface and smiling at her.

She leaned her back against that short wall and cupped his face with the most featherlike touch. "And you look good in black too… but you never wore it before either. I suppose tonight things are just completely different."

"Tonight and tomorrow if you gave me a chance." He added, widening his smile.

"A chance…?" Her question was the gentlest inquiry, laced with threads of hesitancy.

"A chance."

Bulma's fingers moved lower, slowly, while she fastened her eyes to his, until they rested over his lips in a tender caress.

Maybe it was the pain of being left behind, the longing or the emptiness. Perhaps it was the night that transpired with so much ease and quietude. The way he looked, and the way he spoke, for he gave her a chance to claim a life where she would be able to settle like the serious business woman she now was. A family? Children… dignity… all in one. All in a kiss.

He closed his eyes as she inched forward, almost in slow motion, until their lips met softly. It was shy and secretive, almost chaste as she tasted his lips carefully and he returned that same mild caress. She pried the gates of her heart open for him, to try and forgive and forget the drama that had forced them apart so many months ago, but mainly to try and bury the memory of that other man that had whisked her away in a torrent of black passion. All she wanted was this ache and this loss to withdraw, to have the need she felt for her alien lover every day and every night finally vanish.

And so with the carrying tones of the string quartet filtering through the air and the fairy lights twinkling around them they reclaimed a wisp of the past and kissed quietly under the moonlight. No one witnessed such candor, no one but the city lights and the black eyes of a creature of the night.

--

A/N: I truly don't think you know what comes next. Nah, I bet you don't. Try guessing. You're prolly wrong. To izzieLaLa, my heart is with you, truly! Thank you so much for letting me know what your thoughts are. Now I am sending all my positive vibes in your direction. May things start looking up. To Trynia, you were the first review for this story, so seeing you review still… (huge hug). Oh something else, you should check out the song I Think I am Paranoid by Garbage. Ehm, seriously, you'll understand.


	14. Fly Away

Disclaimer: Whatever, I own Vegeta.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 14

Step 15 – Fly Away

"Oh… bubbles! How delightful." A heavy blonde woman exclaimed in delight, clasping her chubby hands in front of her. She was one of many others gazing wide-eyed at the iridescent orbs that floated around the hall.

Mrs. Briefs picked up the jolly murmur wafting through the crowd that was gathered for the cocktail party and beamed at her daughter with her own brand of excitement. "Well, I am glad you stopped being so difficult and ended up using my idea. Look at how people love it. I just can't understand what's had you in such a funk these past few weeks." Her warbling morphed into a soft reprimand. "Now tell me what kind of person says no to bubbles. Just look at how they catch the light."

Bulma jerked in her seat and grimaced. "Yamcha…" She hissed in mild annoyance, twisting her neck around to eye him severely "Stop it…"

"What dear?" Her mother asked, perking up in her direction. She had been pawing the bubbles like a kitten at play with the butterflies in the menagerie. "What did you say?"

Bulma slapped Yamcha's hand away, which had been slinking around her waist and tickling her stomach. She then refocused on her mother's bright expression. "Oh, the bubbles. Well, I just couldn't take one more word about how amazing they'd be and how lustrous and pretty and bouncy. So in the end I figured I really didn't care. I hope you're happy mamma." She slanted bitter eyes in the direction of a couple of acne-riddled teenagers garbed in black vests. "Those kids back there operating that machine have been blowing them in my face all day nonstop. To me, quite honestly, they're just fucking ridiculous."

Dr. Brief's coughed in his fist, his glasses jogging over his nose. "Well, honey what in the world. What did we teach you about good manners?"

Yamcha tilted his head back and looked at her in bewilderment. "Your dad's right, baby. Just what's gotten into you? If we were in school I'd say you've been hanging around the bad crowd." His comment was light but she could still pick up a hint of genuine disapproval in it. She'd never been completely proper, but truth was she could tell just how much of Vegeta had truly rubbed off on her. She absently wondered if others guessed at such a simple equation, that she and he had become tremendously familiar with each other and that she'd started to sound very much like the Saiyan.

Yamcha tightened his hold around her, a hand anchoring on her hip and squeezing her softly.

"Yamcha." She lowered her voice so it was only audible to him. She pried his fingers away while squirming in the crook of his arm. She shouldn't have been so surprised at his playful touch, not after the way she let him on earlier that night but her body wasn't responding the same way it did with a certain someone. She wanted it to, and maybe in time it would but for now she was glad he'd withdrawn his arm to merely lay it over her narrow shoulders.

It was good he was always so easily controlled, she mused, toying with the delicate portions of finger food displayed on the table they sat at. There was no question she was the one with the strongest will and thus the one to always call the shots in their relationship, both in and out of bed. It took one screech from her well-endowed vocal chords to see him cringe and shrink away into a well domesticated creature who stuttered his replies at half the speed she dished her own. But wasn't that nice and simple? Definitely simple. That was the key word to describe life as it transpired with him. She nearly always decided when they got to be intimate and once in the throws of passion it was she who dictated the pace, acting as the sole conductor of her well regimented life. The world at his side was safe, easy and sensible. It posed no threat to her in any way whatsoever. His touch was the gentlest, his disposition always to please her and her will his command. If she said no, his hand retreated, and if he was the one in need of her favors, his palms were both probing and tentative.

He always asked for permission.

Bulma's mind drifted off into a turbulent tangent, reliving in vivid memory the sound of ragged panting and the feel of scorching sweat-slicked flesh that always accompanied her encounters with the Prince. He didn't know what asking for permission was. He merely took. He was a tempest, a strong wind that devoured everything in his wake with acute precision. He knew how to make a girl acquiesce to his demands, not because he imposed himself on her, but because he made her want to. He had a way of inspiring dark, raw desires that stripped her of her bindings and left her nothing but a woman. That's how she felt when he looked at her, when he touched her, a full-blown woman, completely desired and thoroughly fucked.

Bulma closed her eyes in remembrance, her eyelids trembling minutely. Being in bed with him was the antonym of gentle and simple; it was an explosion that came in waves of hyper sensation. It was completely indecent and utterly dirty. There was no holding back, no inhibitions, and that's exactly why he was so dangerous. He made her act vulgar and low between the covers until she caught herself playing slave to his desires, eager to meet his sinful demands. He made her fuck, not make love, and wasn't that somehow proverbially wrong?

She cleared her throat and sipped on her champagne, letting her troubled gaze wander over the others sitting at the lavish table.

They had no idea who she really was, just like Vegeta had said to her weeks ago. They couldn't understand the exhilaration of having a nuclear bomb between her thighs or the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her veins at the thought of such a powerful creature making her his. He could destroy entire worlds and yet he was careful when handling her. He was a master of control, skillful enough to treat her delicately even in the midst of his burning caresses. He handled her like she was spun out of porcelain and still slid into her with the force needed to make her head spin.

She darted a sideways glance in Yamcha's direction as he popped a tiny appetizer in his mouth. Could she go back to her ex-boyfriend now after having tasted the thick sugary taste of sin? She averted her eyes and dipped her head slightly. All she knew was these past few weeks her brain insisted on whirling around thoughts of Vegeta. She was still crushed, much to her misfortune, that thirsty need for him far from quelled. The thought alone drove her to dig her perfectly polished nails into her palms until she thought she'd bleed. Potent waves of frustration crashed over her mercilessly, strangling her ego with the force of vicious snakes.

Her experiment had gone all wrong, and she probably deserved such calamity anyway. She had originally wanted to sleep with him to satisfy her curiosity and get it out of her system but she had grossly miscalculated the implications. She had ended up deeply entangled with him, owner of a twisted secret that tied them together in a dark unbreakable bond. What the hell had he turned her into? The curse cast over her with his deep masculine voice lingered, whispering tempting nothings to her soul. He said he was going to own her in mind and body. He was going to fuck her senseless, and she was going to be the one to gladly give it all.

The worse was instead of being pleased he had vanished into the night three weeks ago, she had often lounged about consumed in memories and wistful thoughts. She'd daydreamt; pretty much like she used to back when she was plotting what she thought would be HIS fall. Her brain often swam in thoughts of what he liked and disliked or the various little things she now knew about him that made her smile like an idiot. Leather bracelets were inexorably cool because Vegeta had occasionally worn them. Double toasted nut and caramel mochachinnos, once her favorites, were now decidedly stupid because he'd once said they were disgustingly sweet and mundanely redundant. A particular song was on her playlist because she'd caught him oddly immersed in it as he sat on her bed polishing his boots. He'd looked so pensive that day…

She felt Yamcha's arm pulling her tighter, springing her out of her random ruminations. Bulma's mother beamed at them both from across the table. "It has been forever since I'd seen you two in the same room."

Yamcha merely smiled and lifted his glass. "Well, here's to unexpected things…"

Bulma fixed her eyes on his lips as they widened in joyous disposition. Her parents followed his lead and raised their golden beverages before looking at her expectantly. It took her a few seconds to realize she was the only one caught in a peculiar trance, a huge dissonance to the joviality of the moment.

"Oh…" She wrapped her dainty hand around the flute and brought it up to eye level. "Sure, to unexpected things."

They echoed her words, took a sip at their champagne and chuckled at one another. "It has been the most incredible evening so far, everything so orderly and refined." Her father stated, a gentle smile creasing his aging face. "It is a pity Vegeta missed out on it though. When he talked to me about fine tuning a few things so he could take the ship away, I didn't think he'd be gone for so long."

Bulma choked on her drink, feeling it bubble up her nose. "What?" She croaked "You got to speak with him before he left?"

"Well of course." His father responded. "Hadn't I mentioned it? I thought he had actually spoken to you too."

"No… I, he didn't." So he'd spoken to her father and not her. Something thrashed inside her chest at the mere mention of her lover's name. She silently berated herself for somehow caring that the jerk hadn't even left her a message. It was obvious he didn't feel the need to run his plans by her. No one could control him.

"I don't think he took off into space though" Her father went on. "He merely capsulated the ship and lifted off into the horizon. You know him, a lone wolf who moves to his own tune. The boy is a jerk, but I surely respect his strength of character."

Yamcha stiffened and frowned at her parents. She could almost feel his uneasiness escalating at the mere mention of his arch nemesis. They went back quite a few months him and Vegeta, and their rivalry transcended what was easily discernible. Nothing could blot out the fact that he'd tasted the raw acrid flavor of death, perhaps the most traumatic event any human could suffer, and it was all his doing. It was all due to the man she'd been fff…

"It might be best if he never comes back." He stated sourly, jarring her out of her unsettling thoughts. "He is a very dangerous creature after all and I am sure you don't actually believe he likes any of us that much, do you?"

_Well he certainly likes me quite a bit. He is very acquainted with your ex-girlfriend._

Bulma squeezed a napkin, her eyes restless at the realization of the monumental truth people were oblivious to.

"Aw, well, let me tell you something…" Bulma's mother leaned her satin clad arms on the edge of the table and fixed a clear blue stare on her. "We mammas have a good instinct when it comes to sizing up men. It's something I pride myself on and that's how I am able to bet on a simple fact. He would never lift a finger to hurt a single pet in this household. I'd go as far as to say any woman brave enough to win his heart is actually incredible lucky."

Yamcha eyed her in poorly veiled disconcert, taking in her diaphanous beauty and her perturbing words. It was an odd mix that instilled him with a sense of dread. "Mrs. Briefs…." He started, unable to go anywhere.

Bulma bit her lower lip and dragged her gaze down. "You don't know what you're saying mamma. You don't know him."

"Oh I believe I know more than you think." She leaned back, her red lips spreading into a perfect smile. "A man that strong would love fiercely and with no reservations. He would hold nothing back, and mark my words Bulma. He would lay down his life if necessary for whoever owns his heart. There is nothing he wouldn't sacrifice."

Bulma only stared back at her mother, a strange numbness overtaking her. Her words wrapped around her soul like drapes of silk but also stabbed like pointed thorns. She absently wondered who'd be the incredible creature to conquer his soul, the one to wrap a storm around her finger and hold its prowess in the palm of her hand.

"And it doesn't hurt to know a simple truth. What's wild and untamable in public, is wild and untamable in private too." She added with a grin, making Bulma's cheeks flare up to a rosy hue.

Yamcha had grown unnaturally tense, his entire body language squirmy and uncomfortable.

Her father, used to her mother's candid nature, only laughed, grazing a thumb lovingly down the peachy softness of her cheek.

Bulma wondered at the truth of her mother's abilities, her alleged sixth sense when it came to men. Her words swirled in her mind batting away relentlessly. Was there a chance for someone, some other woman to win his heart? Some stupid bitch from another planet? Small indentations formed between her eyebrows as she reflected on the sour truth of her situation. He probably deemed her too weak and low class to ever be more to him than a slave, a consort from an inferior race, but never his equal. Who would that "lucky girl" be? That sublime and unfathomable being that would hold him hostage forever? And why the devil was she even thinking about this anyway?

"I don't know Mrs. Briefs. It's a good thing no woman from earth would be crazy enough to mess with someone like Vegeta." Yamcha muttered bleakly, the heat of his gaze on Bulma's profile. She turned her head to meet his eyes straight on, oddly compelled to say something, anything, she didn't know what, and then, right that moment the gentle sounds of the string quartet drowned away.

"And now, our gracious hostess, Miss Bulma Briefs, will take the stand and offer a few words to our distinguished guests." The enthusiastic invitation segued into the generalized clapping of the guests. The whole evening had truly been about this moment, every ceremonial minute slowly leading to it. She was to speak before the stockholders and formally announce what everybody already knew, that Capsule Corporation was bigger than ever now and that it'd entered into a strategic partnership with Viored Corp., major firearms conglomerate. Then she'd chant a string of facts and figures that would leave the puffed up attendants day-dreaming about their bulging bank accounts.

She rose in a cloud of expectant stares that followed her fixedly as she made her way up to the podium. Her movements were lithe and graceful like those of a ballerina, folds of shimmering white swaying lightly with every step she took until slim fingers adjusted the microphone. The screeching of the device pierced through her ears, making her wince.

Her heart pumped strongly and her chest reverberated like thunder. Their eyes were all on her, cold and unreadable, the silence deafening as they witnessed the president's daughter first public speech on behalf of the entire board of directors and major decision makers. She swallowed hard but her placid expression not once flickered, the diamonds shining on her ears adding to the icy perfection of her semblance.

"I am very delighted to be able to speak to you tonight and I certainly hope you've enjoyed the evening as much as I have." She lied. There were a few nods as they remained fixed on the cornerstone of the organization. She gestured delicately towards her right. "As you all know, we are joined here tonight by our newest partners, now members of the ever-growing Capsule Corporation family. This most important joint venture will be responsible for the opening of more than five thousand new jobs in the first trimester, not counting the figures that have been issued as projections of…"

Bulma's entire frame froze and her eyes widened to disproportionate lengths. The powerful beating of her heart stopped and the earth ceased to spin on its axis. "of… of projections of…" Her throat constricted and acquired the dried out consistency of cotton, her stomach curling into a tight, twisted knot.

He was lounging there on the doorway, looking like a black knight in his dark armor. God, he looked even more beautiful than she remembered him being, with a casual laid-back air and an evil flicker in his eye. Bulma didn't realize she'd been gaping, her train of thought lost. A thick uncomfortable silence spread over the hall, some coughed and a few guests shifted in their seats. She cleared her throat loudly, attempting to lubricate her vocal chords. "… projections of, of growth in the main fields of both companies." More silence as her head spun wildly, and her eyes sought the relative safety of anywhere else, anywhere but him. "Last year numbers remained well within the average…"

Her mouth moved by rote, mind wheeling frantically as it strived to discern the reason for him being here, leaning on the frame like a fearless cat in his very own den. Her blue gaze gravitated to him again, unable to resist his magnetizing pull and what she saw immediately made her muscles tense. He straightened his stance and prowled towards her locking the black intensity of his eyes on her own. "…expected in terms of gross profit and…"

_God what the hell was he doing here, seriously. _Her pulse raced loudly in her ears and the hairs on her skin rose instinctively as he made his way through the crowd that was standing. They parted in quiet obedience as he moved, everyone eying him in complete confusion. The women glanced appreciatively, whispering to each other in awestruck fascination while the men held their wives in a tight instinctive grip, but even so, those married slid their fervent eyes down Vegeta's back like it was the tightest piece of ass they'd seen in, well, forever.

Bulma saw Yamcha leave his seat abruptly, his gaze narrowing into frightened spears of determination. To make matters worse, burly members of security emerged out of nowhere, sporting their black suits and striding with unnatural agility. Bulma could feel her voice cracking under the pressure and she was distinctly aware no one was truly paying attention to her anymore.

"…increase in assets of the corporation…wait" She hissed the last word at the guards, extending an arm out to halt their step. "Don't…" she barely whispered, shaking her head gently and sliding her pupils to the corner of her eye to carefully regard the intruder.

Yamcha snapped forth, his face ashen but his resolve as strong as ever. "Vegeta, what the hell do you think you're doing."

Vegeta didn't even deem him worthy of a glance. He merely stretched his palm in his direction and sent him flying violently with the invisible power of his ki alone. The sudden shot of energy knocked him back with its blowing intensity, tumbling a table in the process and crashing him on the far wall. It cracked with the force of the impact and Yamcha exhaled sharply, sinking to the floor amidst a flurry of people. A couple of men hefted him by the underarm as he doubled over in pain-riddled agony.

And all the while, all Vegeta did was cock his head and send her a snide smile, his bone-chilling gaze nearly paralyzing her heart. Bulma got lost in him; bolts of panic zapping through her veins and putting her senses on high alert. Her muscles hardened and rendered her immobile, like a hopeless deer pinned to the spot by the ominous presence of a predator.

She focused on his movements as he climbed the few steps that led to the podium with fluid grace, almost vanishing anything else with his presence alone. Only he had the power to change the world that way, like a heated wind that morphed frosty winter days into sweltering summer nights.

"Please…" She whispered tremulously "Don't do this…"

People stared agape as the black knight approached Bulma in her crystal white perfection, both standing on the podium like surreal figures out of some eastern fairytale.

"Don't worry." He said with a husky voice and a challenging smirk, standing a breath away from her and looking down into her worried eyes. He could almost hear the drumming in her chest, could see the pulse in her throat quaver at his proximity. "I merely came to say goodbye."

Bulma tried to read some sort of explanation on his face but was unable to. Desire spread like liquid heat over her womb, firing up that nub of pleasure that was now engorging in attention to him.

"Goodbye?" She breathed the word with childlike innocence, completely lost to what he meant.

He only smiled slyly; his strong hand cradling the softness of her cheek. Then Bulma's world imploded. One minute everything was exactly as it should be and the next he had snatched her to him, locking lips with her in scorching fierceness. A gasp died in her throat at the disbelief, everyone stunned as they watched his mouth ground on hers. She was only aware of them for a split second, the vague notion of fighting perishing under the sinfully delicious movement of his lips.

Her mouth parted to let his tongue play. Fire shot through her every limb, turning her body into a blazing inferno that made her shudder. The sheer decadence of his kiss was mouthwatering and succulent, his jaw moving as he explored her mouth unabashedly in front of the guests. Bulma's chest rose in response to his hand sliding down her back to grab her ass seductively and she arched her back almost instinctively. All she wanted was to mold into him until there was nothing left of her, to prolong this absolutely obscene sensation until the world itself faded to black.

Yamcha strived to stand on his own two feet futilely, breathing harshly through his nostrils at the perplexing scene. He blinked many times, intent on wiping it away and convincing himself he was merely hallucinating, but the more he tried, the clearer it became. His ex-girlfriend was kissing the guy who had sent him to the next dimension, and God she seemed like she was enjoying it. It couldn't be happening. Bulma and Vegeta were kissing. Kissing! The worse thing is he felt completely helpless to remedy the near blasphemy of it all. Mrs. Briefs was staring at them elated while her husband seemed more interested in the smoked salmon blinis.

A stray moan escaped Bulma's throat, making the most uppity hags in the crowd gasp in indignity. Her tongue wrapped around his, her lips sucking with the pent up thirst of so many weeks. Vegeta's hand kneaded the firm mound of flesh that was her ass, pressing her to him as his other hand cradled her head and tilted it back to give him better access. There was nothing remotely chaste or hindered about the way he was drinking her up, instead nipping and tasting with wicked wanton. Her teeth grazed against his moist, luscious, velvety tongue and her lower body melted against his muscles. The audience stirred in agitation, squealed, shrieked as they witnessed the lewdest most sinfully indulgent kiss ever.

Vegeta moaned, slapped her ass lightly and pulled back, leaving her standing there with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. She slowly opened them to regard him dumfounded, her hand grabbing unto the podium to avoid sinking to the floor.

"Come say goodbye to me too!" Yelled a blunt tall brunette, spurring on a round of barely restrained giggles from a few of the attendants.

Vegeta gave the woman a suggestive smirk, practically sending her swooning to the floor. He lifted a brow at Bulma and turned to leave not before grabbing a glass of champagne from the shaky silver tray a waiter was holding. He raised the sparkling flute before blurting out one final dark comment, "To Bulma Briefs, who can't give speeches but can sure do other things incredibly well." His sacrilegious laughter bounced off the walls making Bulma's eyes widen in outright shock. He swallowed the champagne in one swig and licked his lips, then gave her one last evil look as he strode out the room looking like he was the owner of the world.

The crowd was convulsed, murmurs exploding around while Bulma looked at everyone in a trancelike stupor. Then the upheaval ceased as they collectively realized she was still standing there, both mute and stiff. They became aware that the speech wasn't technically over. An oppressive silence sunk in the room as their eyes refastened on her flushed face.

She tucked a straggling tendril behind her ear while she struggled to retain some measure of control. All she could think about in the middle of the mess was somehow finishing the speech, hence her mouth moved before she could even stop it. "I…" She stuttered, frowning and cursing herself for having previously decided against using cue cards. "I… I was saying that… that the net worth of the company has suffered positive changes." Her head pirouetted uncontrollably and she swallowed hard before refocusing on the hard piercing pupils of the group. "Our assets increased approximately 0.88% last month, enhancing our performance in…"

_Goodbye? Where was he going? Was he leaving again? _"…performance in…" What was the matter with him, how dare he descend upon her like this and… why goodbye? "….in the…"

Bulma lifted her eyes and darted them around the crowd, her mind warping under the heavy strain of her thoughts. The leaders of the multimillion zeni empire were all rigid, the room as still and quiet as a tomb. Her knuckles became white with strain as she held unto the podium, unable to pronounce a single more word. And then, before she even knew what she was doing her reason and her logic grabbed hands and skipped out together into the sunset.

"I am sorry" Came a shaky whisper before she grabbed the folds of her dress. "I am truly sorry." With that she ran down the steps and dashed out after him, people resorting back to outraged whispers. Their gazes remained glued to her as she disappeared like a runaway bride.

"Bulma! No!" Yamcha cried, holding what was a painfully broken arm against his body and glancing in the direction of the Briefs. "Don't you think we should do something?" He spoke fretfully.

Mrs. Brief's touched the tip of a finger to her lips. "Oh my, you're right." She responded. She then summoned one of the uniformed men that still stood aghast in the vicinity. "Sweetie, it's time for dessert, remember? Comes right after the speech." The waiter nodded and scurried out in the direction of the kitchen. She then regarded the shaken warrior in utter levity, motioning for him to sit down as if the world was somehow perfectly right. Her delicate eyebrows lifted slightly "What's the matter dear? It's chocolate fondant. You're gonna like it."

He remained standing, staring at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

**-----**

She ran out and looked both ways, not exactly knowing what she was doing and not caring to rationalize it anyway. And then she spotted him, standing on the railing and gazing out into the black cloak of the night like a nocturnal bird. A cry emerged from the inner depths of her chest. "Vegeta!" Her shoes clicked on the tiled expanse of the terrace and her panting resounded in her ears.

She finally reached him and dropped the drapes of her dress down bracing herself on the bar to regain her breath. "What… what do you think you're doing?" Her voice was a biting rasp. She flailed her arms about, sputtering out the bitter barrage of angered reprieves. "You had absolutely no right to simply barge in there and put me through that! Do you have the least idea who those people are???" She jibed a finger in the direction of the room, her nose flaring in exasperation, eyes flickering like blue blazes. "They… they are very important people who do some very important things and… awwgh why do I even bother explaining this to someone like you, you inconsiderate, selfish…jjjj..jjerk." She trembled in ill-concealed rage, her chest rising and lowering repeatedly.

He turned on his heels boring his eyes on her upturned face, that smug expression still firmly etched on his bronze features. "Oh… dammit, let me blast myself. What the hell was I thinking?" His snicker filtered through her pores and wrapped around her senses with biting intensity. He took a few steps on the narrow stone path he was perched on, letting his eyes slide suggestively over the soft angles of her face. Her skin glowed like a pearl in the shower of the moonlight and her nacre lips appeared oddly tantalizing as they pursed in fury.

"Well, you should be!" Came her shrill retort. "I… I can't believe you had the gall to… now what are they going to think! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Untie your hair." He interrupted as if he wasn't paying the least attention to the onslaught of sour words.

"W…what'" She asked in befuddlement.

"I said, untie you hair."

He paced back, the bright rays of the moon glinting off his eyes and the air grazing through his long threads of hair.

"What? I…" She remained unmoving, uncertain and confused as never before. This was definitely not how she expected tonight to unravel and for a moment she wondered how'd she'd wound up in this position. And just like that he rolled his eyes, moving his fingers elegantly as if they held invisible threads attached to the pins in her hair. They flew about and her long locks unfurled, cascading down her shoulders like azure waterfalls.

Bulma gasped in disbelief, slender fingers holding a ringlet and raising it to eye level. "Are you crazy?" she breathed, her brain already frantic over how she was going to explain this. But it was oddly liberating, blood rushing to relax the scalp that had been pulled with such tightness.

He sent her hot eyes, a lip curling in satisfaction.

"Listen to me Vegeta, you don't have the right to do whatever you want with me." She snapped in indignation. "You come and you go as you please and fuck up my life in the process. I am in the middle of a very important event that you just ruined completely." She spoke with caustic determination, yet he still glanced down at her like she was nothing but an amusing little thing regaling him with her antics.

He grinned and crouched down on the railing, perching an arm over a knee to shorten the distance separating their faces. "Then what are you doing here? Why aren't you in there…" He nodded in the direction of the bustling room. "…playing queen of the world?" His words were a mocking purr that made the little hairs on her nape rise in response. He had to restrain a chuckle at the spectacle she presented, flustered and enraged. She looked positively worthy of a long punishing session to tame that wild insubordinate spirit of hers. A shiver of wanton dispersed through his blood, igniting it to a slow smoldering sizzle.

Bulma opened her lips to say something, the words jamming up her throat. She regarded him with a blank expression, fighting memories from three weeks ago when she'd ventured into his mind. Her heart still ached when it remembered the resolution in that little boy's eyes and it throbbed with bouts of faith that he would somehow thrive under the darkness. She wished it wasn't so. She wished she could rip off this feeling that still made her attracted to this evil man and embalmed her in delusions that it might somehow be ok to sell her soul to the devil. Nothing guaranteed her he would ever cease to be the merciless angel of death he was. Her place wasn't with him… she'd already been too much of a bad girl. "Well, I am going back in there. I have too much on my plate to keep playing slave to you."

"You were my concubine. It was you who demoted yourself back to the status of slave as a product of your treacherous behavior and insolent attitude. In any case, I may have no obligation to you anymore, but you still belong to me, bitch."

She nearly convulsed in fury. "You should be careful how you talk to me. It's this bitch who holds the keys to the GR settings, or did his majesty forget that little fact?"

The air became infused with his dark baleful laughter. "Didn't your dear father tell you he unlocked the settings for me three weeks ago? I have free range to raise it all the way up to 450g."

"Well, why the hell would you do that? Didn't you learn a thing? It doesn't matter how many G's you pile up on that thing if your Ki isn't balanced enough for it to matter anyway." Bulma frowned.

"I know that, dumbass. But your father provided me with that measuring device as well, the ki-mapper, and you may be interested in knowing I am now only 45% imbalanced, which is better than I expected anyway. It doesn't quiet matter anyhow; anything less than 50% is good enough to allow me attaining golden hair. Didn't you say that once yourself?"

Well, that was indeed true. It was amazing how much progressed he'd made. She wondered if her brief incursion into his mind had somehow quickened the healing of his ki.

She blinked and let her eyes wander to scrutinize the striking armor he was wearing. It was one of those ensembles she'd recreated for him after he'd recounted tales of the garbs he'd worn as a space fiend. "Good for you then, and good luck getting someone to scrape you off the twisted shards of metal when you fry yourself under 450g."

He straightened his strong legs to tower over her imposingly. "Stupid girl. I have been training under 450 gs for the past few weeks and I have come to a conclusion. That pull is way too easy for me now." He lifted his eyes to the wind, looking every bit as commanding as a lord of war that could govern over legions.

"The old man said 450g was the ship's maximum capacity, and stronger gravity would require a different design, which leaves me with no other option but to seek challenges elsewhere."

So he was going into outer space? Bulma twisted her lips and glared up at him. "Damn right that's the ship's maximum capacity. My father rebuilt it after it exploded remember? And it took lots of work to fashion something that could withstand not just more gravity but also the intense type of training you like subjecting yourself to. Going beyond that would mean constructing something other than just a feeble ship. We would have to build a special facility with more advanced technology. Anything above what you already have is suicidal anyway. Don't you ever listen to reason?"

"Don't give me that shit woman. I don't care if you in your inane little mind deem it suicidal. Nothing is more important than this, and if it requires me risking my life in the process, then the sacrifice is valid. It's agony that makes us stronger. He did tell me a different room inside the compound would need to be built. In fact, he knows he'd better design it to contain the superior pull I will need to train, especially as a Super Saiyan. His instructions are to have it ready by the time I get back. His responsibility is developing technology that's appropriate to my requirements.

Bulma thought it wasn't possible to feel more aggravated, but her irritation was now spiking off the charts. Not only was he completely unreasonable, he was now back to terrorizing her poor father? Her dad was such a nice soul he hadn't even told her anything. He'd probably been laboring strenuously in his lab, burning the midnight oil to comply with his outrageous demands. "Vegeta, you can't just force my father into miraculously coming up with limitless resources to train. A new design requires months of research and the painstaking development of specialized technology. What we've achieved until now has implied more than you can even imagine, and I'll tell you something you won't like one bit. There's no source of energy in this world powerful enough to provide pressure much higher than 400g. More than that requires some sort of power reactor that could take us many months, if not years, to conceive."

Vegeta scowled down at her, grinding his teeth together. He then growled and paced a few steps on the railing. "Race of weaklings."

"Race of weaklings?" She shrieked. "Do you want me to somehow sprout a new reactor right now? You should be thankful for the genius thinking that's provided you with 450g in the first place." She notched her arms on her hips and shot a daring look.

"I have worked with technology far superior than yours woman, believe me. You have no idea the kind of reactors used to make the gears on the Ice-jin empire turn. In fact, there's a place far from here plucked right out of your wildest dreams." He stopped pacing and tilted his face, his face brightening under some unknown realization. "A place where you can buy absolutely ANYTHING your heart desires."

"Anything?" Bulma's eyebrows sunk towards each other as she tried to digest his outlandish remarks.

"Even your reactor." He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. His frame relaxed as he seemed to have alighted on the solution to his training woes. "I am ready for takeoff, and it shouldn't be too difficult to pay a visit. It's a perfect opportunity to tend to very important matters anyway."

Bulma could hear the dark seductive croons of that place, wherever it was, call out to her but she sobered up before drowning in its tantalizing tune. "Well, have a good trip, Prince Vegeta. I am going back in there to try and finish the evening with some measure of propriety."

"No."

She stopped in mid-turn and shot blue daggers back at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said no girl. You're coming with me."

The expletives that rushed through her mind were so many she remained catatonic. She finally managed to sputter a simple. "No, I am not."

He scoffed. "We can do this all night or you can save us both the displeasure. I may be royalty and the deadliest warrior in the universe but my knowledge of highly specialized gravitational science is limited. I am offering the universe to you woman, in a silver platter with little bows on it. However, realizing how mulish and obstinate you are, I don't expect you to jump at the prospect. That is unfortunate though, because you ARE coming with me regardless of your petty displays. I need you to make that transaction."

Bulma's belly tingled at the notion of traveling into outer space and being witness to marvels she couldn't even fathom. To gaze upon that kind of power and glory, and to experience the type of progress that went beyond anything she could have dreamt as a child. Her life-long dreams all wrapped in pretty foil and being shoved her way like a forbidden apple. Her definite fall from grace. What would the cost be, her soul? Her body, her life… Gods, she couldn't just say yes, she would be out there in space, alone with him.

Bulma shook her head and took a step back. "I…I have to go back…I" She looked back over her shoulder, taking in the light emanating from the hall that signified all that was proper and correct in her life. He couldn't let him drag her down to the murky depths of indulgence. This was exactly what was wrong with them. She couldn't keep running from her own life. "I have to go."

She had so much explaining to do, so much to toil with in her daily drudge of a life. He had already screwed up things with Yamcha so badly she had no idea if there was a way of salvaging that, in fact her entire life was a jumbled mess after suffering such sabotage. "I have a life were someone actually cares about me, he actually loves me. He is gentle and nurturing and treats me like a queen…"

"Quiet!" He hissed in barely contained rage. "I won't tolerate one single word about that worthless piece of trash you call a boyfriend. What could you possibly want with him? Were you thinking about him as you writhed in my arms begging me for more? Is this love you speak of enough to make you howl in pleasure until your throat is sore? That is what I offered you. I don't think you cared too much about his 'love' when I was fucking you."

The cold glimmers of the moonlight glinted of her eyes and shame draped over her mercilessly. "Fuck you. I am not going with you." She seethed.

Vegeta chuckled deep in his throat with such malice she actually physically shuddered. "Oh, but there is nowhere to run to, Bulma." With that he directed a gleaming wave of ki across the skirt of her dress and ripped the entire lower portion off, the rush of energy making her twirl. She squawked when she saw the shreds of organza float down to the floor, her previously modest dress now coming to barely above mid-thigh.

Bulma gaped at her long bare legs and back up at him, her chin nearly dropping down to her chest.

"Now, take my hand, I don't have all night." He commanded, extending his arm to her.

Her chest rose and fell in anticipation and her skin tingled. She could have extended this exchange but she knew she had no choice. Not really. She would have to travel alone with this evil man through the depths of space. To be away from family, friends and to lose the advantage of being in her own territory was frightening to say the least but she'd just have to focus on the task at hand, getting the stupid reactor that would quicken that new design and save her father and her from the wrath of the bastard prince. The positives were many anyway. It could signify enormous advancements in Chikyuu's technological development.

Bulma darted one last glance at the bright doors of the room behind her and then back at Vegeta's lean figure. When she took his hand she felt that familiar trickle of electricity buzz all the way down to the center of her womanhood. The billowing wind fluttered the short flounces of her skirt as he hoisted her up. Her stilettos settled on the stone surface of the railing, her heel scraping off the edge and her figure wobbling as she clung to his breastplate in panic.

He pressed her to him, the rough material of his armor hard against her soft, pliant body. "Good girl." He said, before plummeting down with her from the height of the 4th floor.

--------------

"I am okay, please… thank you. I will be just fine." Yamcha grated at a guest who happened to be part of the medical department and had been hunching over his broken arm. "I have to go after her."

He shot a glance at the crystal doors, were a member of security had mysteriously parked his imposing six foot tall frame, blocking both the traffic and the view. "This is ridiculous." He hissed, dashing up from his seat and rushing past the Briefs who'd also been hovering over him in concern.

"Son, get back here. It might be best to take you to the clinic and get that arm into a cast right away." Mr. Briefs warned.

Yamcha ignored him, trudging to the door and placing his good hand flat against the cool surface. His eyes widened in sudden shock as he witnessed her out there in the distance, her aquamarine hair down to the middle of her back and almost all of her pretty white dress gone. What the hell had happened? Just like that, the world became terribly confusing and worse than appalling. She grabbed Vegeta's hand and he snatched her unto the railing. He pressed her body to his own; Bulma clinging to him strongly and the next thing he knew down they went, diving as one into the darkness.

-----------------------------------------------------

A/N: butterflyV, I'm actually going to respond to your review publically, (even though I don't particularly like the idea of explaining plot, but I think it's necessary to clarify a few things) You said it was interesting how Bulma kept saying she was not his pleasure slave when wasn't that what she was trying to do with him in the first place? The short, condensed response to that is no. That wasn't her intention. Bulma's original intention for sleeping with Vegeta was to satisfy her curiosity (I use this same word in the current chapter but Chapter 1, under "Acknowledgement" explains it a lot better). For Bulma this is all a big experiment and she believes herself to be in perfect control of all the factors involved.

Let's fast forward to Chapter 4, right before they actually sleep together. Bulma does happen to say, to her dire misfortune, that she'll be his bed kitten. That has to be put into context. Not only is she in genuine fear of being killed, (he is actually choking her at this point), but she is trying to tempt him into saying yes to her. In other words, she's speaking to his dick. She still thinks she's still pretty much in control of everything, which is a recurrent theme up to that part. She obviously miscalculated the proportions of her little experiment, because not only did she find that sex with him was a master-slave situation where he was the dominant one, but he was taking control away from her in all aspects. On top of that, she actually enjoyed it, which made her vulnerable. He claimed her as his concubine, marked her, and deemed her his possession. That was all far from what Bulma expected out of this.

On Chapter 6 she does comply to playing his concubine (I assume you can nearly equate this with complying to be his pleasure slave) but she's basically playing a game of deceit. She's got the underhanded intention of ensnaring him so that in the end she can screw him over and show him she's still got the upper hand. That's what Chapter 10, 11 and 12 are all about, Bulma rebelling against him and making him see that although she played the part, she was never truly happy or broken. She was merely tending him a trap. Why is she fussing so much? As stated quiet strongly in Chapter 6, the issue is control. I often parallel it to a drug addiction. You often wanna try a drug out of curiosity, even though you shouldn't, it's dangerous. It's tempting and alluring and you go for it even though you're basically playing with fire. You may come out okay, but what if you actually like it too much and became addicted? What if you are in danger of losing yourself? So she rebels against his hold on her, and _in essence_ that's why she's saying "I am not your pleasure slave… I am not your little bitch." Don't sleep with the devil kiddos, 'cause you may end up liking it.

Now after what's possibly the longest damn author's note in the history of this site, just let me add that I do realize this story is heavy with multiple layers, conflicts, psychological warfare, innuendo, symbolism, ble ble bla bla. That may be due to my inclination for psychoanalytical writing after having studied modernism so closely, but peeling through the layers and the complexity of the characters, I hope, can come as a rewarding read. Pffffffft I don't know really. I do have to say I've seen you around (I recognize you, surprise, surprise), I know you've been reading BVs for years so knowing that you have been giving this story a chance is great, regardless of not having feedback till now and not knowing much else about what you think about it. Thank you anyway, I mean it.

Now, and this is not a response to anyone, just something I want to say about the whole Bulma and Vegeta together in outer space thing, I know the idea has been used before, but can anyone tell me how many "Bulma is taken away from earth as a slave and somehow Vegeta ends up owning her" AUs are out there? And as many as I've seen, most are freaking good, even if the theme is a repeat. Every single author brings her own unique flavor to it. Well, my plot follows a very basic idea that may have been used before (in a completely different scenario and under totally different circumstances that have **CERO** to do with this particular storyline). So there, that's my assertion. If you stick around you may just enjoy the following chapters. I happen to think they are especially yummy.

Blows kisses,

Caprice


	15. Melting Need

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 15

Step 16 – Melting Need

Seven days, Capsule four. My pillow looks suspiciously scrumptious, like a big fat glossy turkey with dressing on the side. If I am not careful he will catch me gnawing on it, looking the vivid depiction of abject misery and have a good laugh on his way to the sink. Well, excuse me if my appetite is much more selective than that of a Saiyan. I realize you can't truly capsulate homemade meals and retain their proper flavor, but couldn't he think of loading more than just tuna? And why did mamma take it to heart to spoil the brat by buying him practically a warehouse of that crap when he first moved in? Tuna, tuna, tuna. The word has lost all meaning. He plows through dozens of cans like a big cat, licking his fangs with a languorous air that's sophisticated yet animalistic. Well, hello Vegeta… a girl needs more than just… I can't say the word again or I'll end up hurling. I complained, and all he did is lift an eyebrow in my direction, looking extensively bored with my dissatisfaction.

Is the pillow calling to me? Perhaps it's the heat messing with my mind. I'm not a guest, much less his paramour, and he makes sure that's clearly stated with every nuance of his body, with his coldness and detachment, but worse of all, with his silence. It's as if he's in a permanent state of passive aggression, or perhaps that's how royalty truly treats their underlings. An underling. Have I really sunk that low? Turns out I am not even worthy of sleeping in the same room with him anymore. No, he wouldn't soil his blue blood and mar his decorous name by lying next to a commoner in this narrow pallet fixed to the wall by metal clamps. He did say he wouldn't touch me unless I give myself to him like some sort of offering to the gods, a living sacrifice to his evil appetite. So he's made it markedly evident, the floor's a better mistress, up there in the steel concavity of the main floor.

I am better of without his attention. I don't need him, nor do I need his permanent sneer reminding me of his callous contempt and my ridiculous troubles. He can spend all his time training and eating and ignoring me for all I care. I am now used to my somber soliloquies and my one way conversations with this grid paper notebook , the most loyal companion I've had for the past few days. It turns out keeping it under the control panel of the main computer for my rutinary revisions of the devil's lair paid off. The main purveyor of my sanity… the retainer of my thoughts.

45 steps. That's the length to navigate from one wall to the other in this prison that is now my home. 836 tiles. 50 bolts lined up in rows every two and a half meters from the floor to the ceiling, fastening chrome sheets together in millimetric precision. I memorized every aspect of the Spartan accommodations until my mind got weary and my eyes wandered to the porthole windows, seeking a change in earnest, yet the view was equally un-engaging. Black is black. As black now as it is forever.

I can't help but meander in the insipid truth of outer-space. If Namek ended up turning into one huge snafu, it stands like rollicking times compared to the mind-blowing discomfort of this horrid jaunt. He wouldn't even allow me a quick trip to my room before lift-off to gather the simple toiletries needed for a girl to look half-decent. So I've sat around, feeling every bit as horrible as I probably look, in my bedraggled excuse for clothes, not just writing but also drawing mean-spirited little oekaki depictions of my raptor. They make me laugh, a rare luxury this days, the half-cracked cries of a person who's tethering in near madness.

But that's only part of this torpid story. During the first couple of days in my permanent job committing the worse sin of all, kill time, I managed to listen to strange audio recordings from around Alpha Centauri and remarkably enough, a top 40 music station still receivable from Chikyuu thanks to the stereo system pappa installed. That sometimes took my mind off the penance I live, forced to survive in inhuman conditions on jungle-like weather with a predatorial alien. It glossed over the knowledge that I am this little thing he likes playing dangerous games with, that my curse is this murderous man who has entrapped me against my will. Yes, the music was soothing, until he complained about the racket I was allegedly making and blasted the receiver. And there I thought my rendition of Mike Polo's "Gypsy Woman" was particularly good.

40 degrees. It's not just the churning in my stomach or the coldness of his demeanor, or the fact his highness had requested all kitchen facilities to be removed to make space for a more powerful engine, meaning I don't get the luxury of a fridge or a pan to fry an egg on, it's this blasted god-forsaken heat. The threadbare remains of my dress, turned into translucent leafs of organza, constantly cling to my sweaty skin, and even now, laying here belly down and inert, moisture gathers between my breasts.

I suppose, I shouldn't complain about the climate conditions inside this hell hole, or the bitch-slapping he's refraining from. He really is a master of control to have spared my life after my little accident and I must admit perhaps I wouldn't have been so merciful myself. There I was, day one, sitting in a corner of the living area, sulking, cursing and grating my teeth until sleep swept me away to a land of sweet oblivion. The next thing I knew, I was waking up to the sight of combat boots that turned into powerful legs and tapered to a narrow rock hard waist. The last my eyes rested on was his glower, his sharp command making me twitch. He stated it was time to eat, perhaps pretty much the same way he did with his battalions back in the day. It was either that or ending up fresh meat for the space scavengers. Kami knows who those are, but truth be told, I'd rather stay clear.

My expletive didn't faze him, nor did my shrill complaint about the gelid weather, and damn was it freezing. I couldn't remember space being that cold during my first incursion, but then again, I was far better prepared, not half-naked courtesy of "The Prince of all Saiyans", who seems to believe the universe should… no, let me rephrase that, who believes the world INDEED revolves around his arrogant ass. But back to that shivering sensation I woke up to. I remember covering my chest so he couldn't confirm what icy weather does to my nipples. I stood up on wobbly legs and stormed in the direction of the heating system, flinging the cabinet doors open, slamming the code into the keypad and turning the dial all the way up, and then some more, and then it clicked and danced loosely between my fingers. I remember the sudden lump tightening my throat and the pang of fear shooting straight through my bowels.

And so it all began, his penetrating glare of pure ire, the cursing that followed, both by him and me and my girly "I am sorry". That must have sounded positively pathetic to his dictatorial self. I suppose it was quiet a poetic way to shoot myself in the foot, condemning me to watch him walk around in this indolent weather, pissed-off , shirtless and sweaty, both from the bone-breaking workouts and the humidity. Believe me notebook, it's a huge task keeping these clothes on. It takes all the will I posses to not just lie on the cool polished floor nude, letting an inkling of space coldness seep through it and slide against my body. It's especially difficult after the incident deprived us from the ability to shower as we had to dump nearly two thirds of the water he capsulated into the engine radiators as coolant to keep the ship operational. We barely have enough left to drink and do scarcely more.

Did I mention I feel icky? My hair is a tangled mass, tendrils sticking to my forehead and the sides of my face, forcing me to push them constantly behind my ear. If I rip off one more layer of organza I will end up naked, and that's the last thing I want right now. What does my mind wander to when having endless minutes to live through? The Podkletnov force beam. My sketches, consisting of not just oekaki but also images of angels and demons doing decadent things with their voluptuous bodies. Gravitational theory. Me naked, him naked, the heat… the past and the present all melting like a Dali painting. It all undulates in my mind, in the see-saw way the ocean moves when the weather is kind.

Mr. I-am-too-good-to-even-talk-to-you up there sure knows how to spend his days. One, two, three, they mean nothing to him. In fact, they must seem like a short vacation in comparison to years spent traveling in sleep stasis on those over-sized ping pong balls. How many more times am I going to have to tell him I am not Saiyan, or demand he disclose when the hell we are landing? In fact I am getting more worked up as I write. He dedicates enormous amounts of time to chiseling every muscle on that body, every…. single…. muscle…. thankfully avoiding any gravity as he knows he needs me alive, but still, he'd rather perform and expand the repertoire of his kata than throw me a bone. It must be the military regime he lived in all his life, with the testosterone and the rules and the austerity. And all I want is a cupcake or two. The physical need is killing me, isn't it killing him?

In the parlance of a cranky teenage girl… this sucks. Space sucks. I should have known that from Namek. The pillow is going to start dancing any minute, morph into a cartoon character and break into song. I will end up institutionalized, talking about space travels, alien monkeys and the likes, while the nurses throw pitiful condescending eyes my way. Then they will sedate me and pat me on the head. Sure… interstellar lovers, poor thing.

I can't stand this anymore. He can keep ignoring me but I sure can't ignore the hunger pains or the sweltering heat. I am so irate with his princely self I couldn't care less what he does to me. I may just… God… I need a break.

[End of page]…

---------

Bulma slammed the notebook shut and bit the cap of her pen with strenuous need. Days of malnourishment had turned her head into a mush of erratic thoughts directly bound to her physiological deprivation, a sort of generalized hunger reversing her into a dangerous woman. She would have delighted in that notion, except the primal need to let her frustration out on the next male on the vicinity was chipping away at her sanity and it was surely anything but fun.

She turned around on the bed, the rudimentary portable radio receiver she'd fashioned from the badly broken stereo system Vegeta had nearly obliterated, laying on her belly. She'd managed to produce a decent pair of headphones she now pressed against her ears, catching the distant waves miraculously stretching all the way from Chikyuu. Perhaps if she cooled her mind she'd manage to get through another day in this dismal situation. Perhaps it would quell the beast inside, that hirsute creature threatening to burst out of her belly and devour everything in its wake, like the gruesome scene of an old tacky sci-fi movie.

"And now..." static "…by request on West Hill Radio…" static. She covered her eyes with her forearm and turned her head to the side, trying to cast herself into the merciful arms of thoughtlessness.

…_You're standing at the door  
I'm falling to the floor  
You look even better than you did before  
I'm staring at my feet  
Wondering if I can do this  
It's been a while but I couldn't forget you_

Just a little look has got me feeling things  
Just a little taste has got me seeing things  
Just a little touch has got me off the chains  
Doing things that I don't want to

Do it like you do it to me (I'm burning up)  
Do it like you do it to me (it's not enough)  
Do it like you do it to me, just open up  
Don't you know how much I want you…¹

Her eyes sprang open. Okay, that was enough. The only radio station she was able to pick up wasn't helping her achieve mental stability. The cheesy pop croons pushed her to yank the headphones away in a fit of fury and nearly fall to the floor. Her pupils lit into flames of scorching determination and she flew up the narrow staircase, breathing through her teeth and holding fiercely unto the railing as she ascended to the first level. It was good she was grabbing the metal balustrade so securely or she would have tumbled down when she slipped on the last step in her haste. She squeaked like a mouse but suffocated the sound, hanging on the metal bar and swinging awkwardly until she steadied herself.

Half her body was above floor level so she immediately latched her gaze unto her shipmate. He was hanging upside down, his ankles tied with thick braided chords to the ceiling as he bent upwards and performed the most painful abdominal crunches she'd ever seen. The wealth of poisonous darts she had been gearing to deliver slowly pulverized under the mindboggling sight. It was impossible for any sane, or half-sane, human being of her gender to not stop and do a double-take, what with so many skillfully sculpted muscles rippling in those bare arms and that flat stomach. And they tightened, and stretched, tightened and stretched with a lulling rhythm, the damp tawny skin splendorous even under the dim fluorescent lights.

Whoa, he could touch the tip of his boots with his fingertips, she thought, as he intensified the workout, the rock-hard flesh of his thighs tensing to the fullest under the fabric of his training pants, but his expression remained composed, stern and in total concentration. That amount of control exerted under pressure was incomprehensible to someone that'd lived her days in the plush interior of a comfortable world. The determination, the otherworldly elegance, they were evidently more than wrought in the battlefield. They were in his blood. Such a driven blood…

"How long are you going to stand there like you're brain-dead." He questioned drily, his voice perfectly even through the strenuous workout. Bulma widened her eyes and her scowl returned. She crawled to a standing position and approached him with steady steps that belied her flusteration. "I am hot." She spat. "I am hungry and I am bored."

He un-flexed his torso and hung freely, looking at her upside down. "Be sure to tell me when it becomes my problem." He sent her a bone-chilling gaze before resuming his movements.

"Oh, I am telling you now." There was real anger seeping through her words, her arms akimbo.

"Well, that still doesn't make it my problem." He said with remarkable cynicism.

"It does if you don't tell me when we're landing, Vegeta. Don't you understand I am not a big bad guy like you?" Her irritation spiraled to flaming heights. "I'm like… like a delicate flower that can wither and die and that can't live under this conditions, you ass. I have a job and a family you took me away from just to satisfy your stupid egotistical demands." She said, her tone acquiring a more nervous edge and a sharper pitch. "You really are going to kill me aren't you? Slowly and little by little until you snuff the last spark of my life in your dirty hands. You will burn in hell for all eternity for making me go through this, you hear me? I can't take it anymore. Turn back now, take me home."

Vegeta's face darkened at her angry reprieves. He gracefully reached up to free his ankles, working the knots and carefully landing before her. "Poor little princess, snatched from her comfort zone and thrown into the heart of darkness with a horrible monster. Did no one ever tell you life isn't always the perfect cozy little world you're used to? Do you think your petty problems account as some sort of epic tragedy?" He said waspishly, the contours of his face twisting into that deadly mask that always made her shiver. He lifted a towel off the back of the main seat and glided it smoothly around his neck, not once taking his eyes off her. "Talk to me when you've seen one shred of the callousness, depravity and poverty found in space. Talk to me when you know what true misfortune is."

She balled her fists, breath quickening under the roiling current of her temper. "I couldn't care less, you heartless bastard!" Bulma bent down and grabbed one of her delicate high-heels to throw it at him with what force she could muster. "I hate you. I didn't think it was possible but I hate you more with each passing minute I spend locked up in this hideous, unpalatable place with you. Why didn't you decide to leave earth when Frieza died?"

Vegeta's eyes widened infinitesimally at her explosion of fury, but he dodged the sharp stiletto shoe aimed at his face with utmost agility. "Yes, why didn't I, you damn priss. First good question you've uttered since I met you. Now be thankful you are hot, hungry and bored and not just plain dead. If you're good and I feel like it, I might deliver you to that low-class simpleton when I am done with you." The planes of his face hardened with flagrant scorn. "That's what you want isn't it? You are still fuming over me ruining your night with him. Slut, he'll have his turn only once and if I decide he should."

Bulma gaped at him, unable to muster a fitting reply, and from that insurmountable frustration burst forth the ominous beast she'd harbored inside. She unsheathed her other foot from the pretty prison and hurled the Blahnik at him with colossal violence, surrendering to the legendary temper of the Briefs and snatching a wrench from the back of the gravity control panel. She banged it against the buttons repeatedly. Her choleric cries tore from the depth of her chest, the circuitry echoing her cries with it electrical crackling. She barely registered the moment she lost the metal tool and resorted to pounding her fists against the hard jagged edges of the console, rasping unintelligible laments of sheer desperation.

Gravitational science seemed like the most despicable enemy she'd ever faced, the technical toy of his preference her biggest foe.

Then his voice rose above hers, commanding her to stop and his strong arms circled her waist, pressing her to him to steady her. Still she kicked and squirmed, her back against his chest and her feeble hands pulling at his forearms in an angry desire to be released.

"What the devil is the matter with you." He hissed in her ear, moving away from the gravity isle and backing into the ample seat before the enormous port view window.

"Let me go." She wailed miserably, struggling in his iron hold like a butterfly batting its fragile wings. She repeated her words, half pleads and half-demands but they were no contender for the raw power of his arms as they enfolded her completely. Her furious convulsions ceased under the tacit incantation of his body heat and his musky smell, the whiff of hard-working male heady to her heightened senses.

_  
_He sat her on his lap, still tightly bound by his steely muscles, nothing separating the bodies that nearly melded together. Vegeta nuzzled his nose against her humid neck, nearly tasting the sweet nectar of her blood under the pearly skin. "Listen to me girl. You'd better get it in your mind for once and for all. You are no longer in Chikyuu." His words were a heated breath, a dangerous threat and a luscious promise all wrapped together. "I don't give a damn who you think you are. I am your only way to survive out here, and you'd better believe it. No one will hear your cries."

She could feel herself swallow hard, her head lolling back and her breath still uneven. It suddenly occurred to her how perfectly well she fit in the cradle of his sleek body, how her pelvic muscles tensed in remembrance as she sat there, thighs splayed over his own. "Vegeta… when are we landing?" She whispered with a strange amalgam of despair and shivering desire.

He seemed more interested in examining her bruised hands, badly damaged from her blowout, the cuts still bleeding loud red pearls that slid leisurely over her skin. He stretched over to reach under the main board of the ship and retrieve one of the two last clean towels he had left to dry the sweat from his training. Bulma sat like an expectant doll, perched on his lap firmly even now that his hold had slacked. Her lids fell over her eyes when she felt the soft friction of the fabric swiping her hands, the unnatural sensation of his thumbs rubbing her without truly touching her nearly sending her over the edge. "I am not bound to answer your questions, but you're bound to listen. You don't have the right to inflict any sort of punishment over what I have branded as mine. That includes the last hair on your scalp and the last inch of your body."

He smoothed the woolly fabric over her slender fingers, delving between them to brush the sensitive webbed areas with tingling pressure. His motions ceased and he merely squeezed her frail hands, making them close into small fists. She allowed her shoulders to lax, her cheek pressing against his and her mind threatening to shut down from lack of sustenance.

It was then that her stomach twisted and belted a loud groan, proclaiming its need to its audience. His deep chuckle rumbled through her chest and spread throughout her limbs in a tantalizing purr. It was a bit amusing but certainly preoccupying to know how weak she'd become. She really was hungry, the protest of her gut surely painful. There wasn't much he had been able to load in terms of food before departure, mainly what he knew he needed before being able to land on any planet with a breathable atmosphere and edible plant or animal life. Upon the last minute change in plans he still believed the stash of canned meats would abound for two until landing in Ixia, the ultimate destination, but he'd forgotten just how high maintenance human females were. Even after suffering the early whiplash of hypoglycemia, she'd been reticent to eat more than a few mouthfuls a day.

He felt the delicate body sitting with feather lightness on him, and it was suddenly evident she was not just aggravated. She was wilting, like a white rose loosing its petals to the claws of inclement weather.

Vegeta applied pressure to her hands once more before discarding the cloth and stretching his arms ahead to tap a few keystrokes on the control panel. If he wasn't too far off in his calculations, made with the honed skill of a space traveler, they should be about to glide into quadrant 99, a recondite area peppered with inhospitable worlds and no known forms of life to the untrained eye. It had never represented an interest to the Ice-jin Empire and yet he knew the coordinates to this exact location by heart, the way it was required for such a secretive place.

Bulma remain languid between his arms, watching the fingers move nimbly over the keys. She was gathering the energy to voice another question when his deep dark voice resounded. "What do you know? In a few minutes we should be within range."

She crinkled her nose, her body now completely slumped against his powerful pectorals like a child subjected to her master. "Range? Range of what."

"Within range to access the right frequency and tap my private key code into the ship's transmitter."

Bulma frowned and shifted slightly. Her eyes wandered over the charcoal net of diamond stars visible through the crystal panel, unable to catch sight of a single landmass. In fact, the light flickering in the board indicated the absence of the tell-tale gravitational pull that would signal the presence of a proper planet. Nothing he said was making sense to her worn out self. "Vegeta, are you sure you set the right coordinates? The ship can't recognize a single world in a perimeter equitable to two days travel. The ship can't hold for much longer with circuitry that has sustained substantial damage due to unnatural climate conditions, not to mention the overheating of the engine…"

His lips curved but he never lifted his eyes of the panel, sight glued to the tiny green light flickering at a steady rate. She pursed her lips and stared at him. "Didn't you hear what I…"

"Woman." Came his stern interruption. Bulma's eyes narrowed in puzzlement but followed his gaze towards the board. And then, after a minute in silence and for the barest fraction of a second, the light wavered.

The glitch illuminated his features and Bulma looked at his profile in bewilderment. Her lips were nearly touching his, their sweat slicked bodies sticking together due to the high humidity of the place.

Then the mysterious appearance of unrecognizable characters, now flashing on a screen, drew her attention away from the way her body was melting over his powerful frame. "Geta?" Her eyebrow lifted inquisitively. "What does that mean?"

He tapped a long string of numbers and symbols on the panel before a strange geometric figure morphed into a single green arrow and bleeped to black. He then leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk, grabbing the arms of the seat and stretching his legs with leisure. "That means in three hours you will be witness to something only select individuals are privy to. In fact, you will be given a privilege not even someone with the power and influence of Frieza enjoyed."

Bulma tilted her chin down and sent him a confused glare. "What? Are you telling me this place we are heading to is so exclusive not even the high and mighty Emperor of a dozen quadrants was allowed in it?"

He angled his head and let his eyes roam over her flushed ruddy cheeks, an oddly relaxed expression softening his usual sternness. "Not so much that he was not allowed in it, more like he didn't even know it existed."

"How did you find out about it then when not even Lord Frieza, with all his military intelligence, of which you were part of, ever did?" Her voice half-cracked towards the end when she realized she had somehow answered her own question. Vegeta was skillful at the art of subterfuge, a creature that had the unnatural ability to blend in the shadows of darkness with the perfection of a night prowler. He must have surely learned about the place in a setting she didn't even want to imagine.

The smug expression in his face only intensified, the onyx of his pupils glinting. For a moment he looked like he was about to touch her, almost, yet his hands remained inert over the hard surface of the seat. "Infiltration is not an option Chikyuu-jin. Ixia is shielded with security not even I could break. You must be granted permission… you must be invited, much in the same way I am inviting you now."

Bulma was rendered mute by the sudden acknowledgement of a simple truth: he was indeed inviting her into a part of his world. Perhaps with selfish intentions, but still, something fluttered and buzzed in her stomach at the notion, the female inside her preening with pleasure.

"Have you ever invited anyone else before me, any other girl?" She asked in a little voice, her eyebrows tilting upwards and making her look younger and more naive.

She noticed a rare twitch in his smooth cheek, the sign that her question had caught him off-guard. Vegeta merely looked at her in silence for a couple of seconds before averting his eyes. "If you are to get through the security protocols alive, you should know something woman, you must do as I say at all times. This is no place or time for your lack of obedience. People know who I am but you… you won't like what you are to them."

Her mouth curled in a semblance of defiance. "And just what is that.'"

Vegeta's finely carved lips stretched in a cruel fashion, an expression worthy of the fierce beauty of his face. "Nothing."

----------------

AN: I know! It took me forever to get this out. (My apologies to ruthlessculprit, I swear I tried to type faster but life got in the way). It's considerably shorter than my average chapter but hey… I am sure you don't mind, I think I like it this length. Before you diss poor Bulma for throwing a tantrum, just imagine a fraction of her frustration (laughs maniacally) I am so evil.

_¹Lyrics:"Do It" © Nelly Furtado_


	16. Fall Into the Underworld

**Disclaimer: **I am Toriyama's fan and Vegeta's slave. I don't charge a cent.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 16

Step 17 – Fall into the Underworld

She expected some sort of major event after the timer beeped, an Ixian convoy materializing in a spectral display of colors or perhaps the tremors of the ship as they were yanked by the gravitational pull of some alien apparatus, but they were only met with the subtle hum of the capsule. In fact, she was trying to puzzle out the reason why he had insisted they didn't even move it at all since making contact.

Vegeta had put on his royal blue armor after a trip to the lower level to fill the chrome sink and splash cool water over his face and chest. She'd been making the bed she'd occupied in solitary for the last week when she risked a glance through the bathroom door. Tiny beads of water rolled down the taut hillocks of his torso, spilling lazily down his biceps and shimmering on his dark long hair. It had all reminded her of how thirsty she was, had made her want to drink the drops right off the tanned skin and lick until there was nothing left to gather. Thankfully the knowledge that they were about to land had squelched that desire, a flicker of hope igniting at the thought that they were one step closer to the end of this journey. If things flowed smoothly she may just make it back intact. Soothed by that notion, she'd paced around counting the minutes, tapping her fingernails on her arm and longing for the three hours to pass swiftly. They had, but her disappointment was now vividly notorious.

She remained silent from her position next to him looking idly through the main screen of the ship. And then, as the minutes dragged on, her brows sank together along with her patience.

"Veg…" He extended his arm before her, cutting her words short. He then moved towards the hatch, grabbing the latch and swinging it down forcefully.

"No, no, no. What in heaven's name are you doing?" She shrieked, rushing to his side and holding his forearm with both hands. "Are you crazy? You can't do that. We're hovering in the middle of nowhere. Are you just going to fly out into the great wide nothing?"

His pupils slid to rest on her quavering eyes. "Haven't you been paying attention at all? And there you like calling yourself a genius." She knew her strength was pitiful compared to his, which is why her entire frame tensed when she saw his fingers tighten over the steel rod and yank it down. A loud flushing sound resounded as the door extended outward like a bridge into the impenetrable depths of the universe.

She inhaled sharply and took a step back, certain this was all part of some elaborate ruse to dump her like refuse after seven days of torment. She bit her bottom lip in expectancy but he didn't shove her out, in fact, and strangely enough, nothing actually happen. There was no sudden oppression in the cabin, no blaring sirens alarming the occupants of their impending doom. It was as if he had opened the hatch to a different room filled with a completely breathable atmosphere, opposite to the cruel hostility of raw space.

"There hasn't been an inkling of movement in the asteroid belt directly ahead since we've anchored." He said, granting her a sideways glance with a hint of arrogance, and then, without further preamble he stepped out. Just like that. She half expected him to float helplessly and begin asphyxiating, but he instead appeared pretty steady right there were he stood, on the firm surface of… well, nothing.

"Chikyuu-jin, are you going to stay there?" He husked, offering his hand to her in a gesture that was both firm but also gentlemanly. It was ironic how she was supposed to take a leap of faith and step out into deep space hand in hand with him. After all, they were supposed to be enemies, to stay true to that heartless fate destiny had cast over them. But for some reason she felt safer here than she'd ever felt before, facing cosmos in its breathtaking enormity with him as her only guide. It was her last thought as her dainty hand came into contact with a bigger, much stronger one.

Then slowly but surely, her heel touched a solid surface, as if they were both standing on some invisible platform. They were surrounded by stars, light years away from any breathing creature, bodies completely unguarded by anything. How could they still be alive? Were they mortals or were they gods? Her eyes sought his, on the apex of an unrecognizable emotion, speaking without words to let him know that she was amazed. She was breathless when she was with him, stricken, floored. In his presence even the smallest things were resplendent and larger than life. Only he could make her walk among the stars and shake hands with the constellations.

The ghost of a smirk graced his face before taking a couple of steps, still holding her hand. And then, when she least expected it, the universe morphed into a whirlwind, the canvas of space melting into a spiral of color and pixie dust till there was nothing left but blackness. A different scenery came into view and it took her a moment to figure out where they were, an extensive enclosed docking bay consisting of multiple levels, running as high and as low as her eyes could reach. Landing platforms projected outward like flat lollipops trimmed by incandescent lights. Capsule four was resting on a circular palette, shutting down in automatic response to some foreign stimulus, and they were only ten feet away from it.

Bulma glanced around, lips parted as she took in the enormity of the area, vessels of all shapes and sizes docked around them in what seemed like infinite numbers. "Where are we?" She inquired almost to herself, her slender fingers now holding unto his wrist instinctively.

"It's called Port 99 for its position inside this quadrant, not for a correlative order of numbers. It's the only way into the planet and the biggest station this side of the galaxy. It's impossible to access our destination directly, much less touch down on main city with a ship this size. This acts as an entryway to a wormhole that shoots you within the gravitational pull of Ixia." She listened attentively, beginning to suspect this area of the universe was completely different than what she had seen during her first trip. "I presume it's cloaked to any passerby much the same way this station is. It's all an elaborate security measure to ensure it remains what it is, the best kept secret in the universe, after the dragon balls that is." He added the last comment with a grimace of distaste, perhaps due to his unfortunate history with the spheres.

"Why can't ships this size land on the city we're headed to?" She asked, engrossed in the fantastical explanations spilling from his mouth. He turned to the oval shaped gate to the left, an eyebrow curving in a gesture of deep analysis. He was evidently machinating some strategy. "Once you look at the surface you'll probably realize there's not much landing space."

"So what are we going to use to touch down if Capsule 4 is out of the question? We've got nothing." He didn't offer any explanation. Instead his countenance hardened further, becoming an impenetrable mask of sheer calculation. She had seen many expressions grace his face but not once had she met this side of him. "We don't have much time, capsulate the ship." His instructions weren't harsh but she was so attuned to him she could immediately sense the energy inside him coiling in preparation for… something. She decided to obey without delay, packing the metal structure in response to his body language.

He snuck it underneath his breastplate and grabbed her shoulders, commanding her attention fully. She half-expected him to go on about how she was supposed to walk ten steps behind and keep her arms crossed at all times like a worn out cliché. "I have brought you because I am confident in my ability to protect you. I know I can. I am far above the food chain in regards to any bastard you get to meet from now on, but not even raw power is undefeatable." Bulma was both comforted and distressed by his ominous words. "So you must do as I say at all times and bite that viperous tongue of yours lest you want to doom us both. Those who come this far but are unable to meet security protocols for entry end up leaving in bags."

"What?" She hoped she hadn't heard him well, an unsettling need to pee making itself present.

"That means dead you moron, and you'll drag me down with you for having committed the sin of bringing you along. If they so much as assume I am attempting to smuggle people into the place they will do away with both of us. Just remember something, at this point you already know too much."

With that he strode towards the entrance. She ran to catch up with him, dissatisfied with his sinister explanation. "Wait, what are you talking about? What could they possibly do to neutralize you? You really are incredibly powerful… the most talented warrior, criminal, fiend, Saiyan, whatever, I know of. Just look at your fighting level, your experience and strategic ability. They can't touch us."

He reached out and grabbed her waist, more than a little glad for the ego massage even if it wasn't deliberate. He pulled her to him and crossed the gate after the polished sheets parted. "Security has the unsightly ability to spray venom through their mouth. Now hush, we are now being monitored."

Her pulse raced at the gruesome image of some horrible reptilian creature perched on an admittance cubicle. "Shit." she muttered, now noticing the round elevator with padded interiors that looked like velvet. It began humming its descent, sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering in her belly.

He was pressing her to him, big hands dipping slowly down her back until she was enfolded in a deep embrace. It caught her off guard, but she didn't stop him, her body responding immediately. Her form was soft and feminine, narrow shoulders constricted against manly steel. She wasn't supposed to, but there was her head, resting on his shoulder, arms encircling his waist and palms smoothening along the curve were his spine met his tight buttocks. It was all she could do not too sigh… so long without feeling this, her mind whispered, lips close to the base of his sinewy neck, almost tasting the salty sheen of sweat laying there.

He lowered his head to bury his nose between her silken hairs and murmur in her ear. "Kiss me". Bulma thought she had imagined the words, eyes narrowing to slits of confusion. He couldn't be asking her to… "What?" She breathed.

"Kiss me" He repeated "Touch me… like you're dying to have your way with me, like you can't get enough." She blinked at the rich dark sound of his voice as it caressed her earlobe. She felt a surge inside her gut, some barely restrained feeling spiraling out of control and rushing violently throughout her limbs. She squeezed her eyes shut, plump breasts squashed against his chest as she breathed heavily.

"I…" She begun uncertainly, lips tremulous.

Vegeta exhaled in sharp annoyance, bunching the barely there fabric of her dress. "Do it. Act like it if you must unless you want to end up gasping for air and smelling your own skin as it chars with hyperacidic venom. They mustn't suspect I'm merely sneaking some refugee girl in for pay."

Bulma breathed in, her fingers tingling in expectation. Then a muscled thigh found its way between her legs, urging her up, steely arms wrapping around her tighter, imprisoning her with their power. She licked her lips before pressing them to his neck, half biting, half kissing, delighting in the masculine flavor. The taste was intoxicating, addictive enough to loosen all inhibitions. It was a private feast, blood to the thanatophile in her.

She tightened her hold, kissing all around his neck feverishly, slithering an eager pink tongue from the base to his chin and then nibbling his ear. Vegeta slid his palms up her back until they cradled the base of her skull, fingers tangling in the long sapphire hair. He pulled her head back to suck on her neck, sending her entire frame into shudders. Her hands began transpiring, sweat breaking through her body and wafting into his nostrils in notes of wildflower, vanilla and musk. Her taste, her flavor… he could recognize it perfectly. This heightened and delicate. This rare.

Her mount of Venus rubbed against the top of his thigh, slender female fingers reaching up to gather the stray strands of hair at his nape. He tilted her head one way and another to give him better access to her damp porcelain skin. And as she felt helpless again, her heart beat a tattoo in her chest, hips undulating hungrily against his body. In the midst of the ragged breathing he pulled her head far back again to lick her lips. "Lick me too." He demanded against her mouth.

It was a necessity to live, she reasoned, feeling both the viscous wetness oozing from her very core and the hardness straining between his thighs. It's a necessity to keep breathing… and so she lapped against his lips, nearly whimpering at the feeling. Their tongues licked and flicked together, mouths suctioning intermittently and drinking big gulps of each other. Their bodies writhed in spasmodic fashion. More, more, more, her body cried, like it was agonizing, like every touch was both heaven and hell.

When he released her lips her mouth remained open, stuck in a bottomless gasp, relishing the blazing fire of his saliva as he moved to her earlobe. Her hands had become restless, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his ass. "Bulma…" She only pressed herself against him, head dizzy from lack of sustenance and too much adrenaline. God, she was going to faint any minute now. "Bulma…" He repeated, now much more strongly, beginning to tear through her hazy thoughts.

"Hn…" She murmured in a drugged up state.

"That's enough. I don't want to walk around with a damn erection for everyone to see." He rolled his eyes and shut them, leaning his head back against the surface of the elevator. She allowed herself a moment or two to just look at him, face tinted with a fraction of vulnerability as he tried to regain control over naked instinct. Her ruby lips grew sly at the thought of being a real bitch and sabotaging his intent, forcing him to walk around with a hard-on in front of whoever was waiting for them at the other side of the door. Still, she remained unmoving, oddly pleased that she could incite such ardor in him.

Quicker than expected he reclaimed his senses, the pore-less contours of his face hardening in concentration. The doors slid to reveal a wide room decorated in crystal panes and more of that velvety padding. She could see the cautious determination in his eyes as he walked ahead and stepped into the monochromatic foyer. She stalked up to him, running into his back as he came to an abrupt halt.

There, lounging around in the room were at least half a dozen creatures, all surely recent arrivals from the gates that surrounded the interior. She expected to see a sundry array of gaudy mutants, pretty much in the style of Frieza's lackeys, but what she saw was a far cry from that. They were all, no exception at all, not just anthropomorphic, but looked rather human. They would have fooled her if not for a few details that gave them away. A couple of them were painted in a hue a tad more golden than she would have seen back on Chikyuu, others sporting the elongated pupils of a snake. Still, there was latent elegance in their demeanor, garments contrasting and highlighting the fact that no one shared a common background.

They murmured lazily, sneaking furtive glances in their direction but largely undisturbed by their presence. Her eyes eventually came to rest on a greenish old man behind a counter, with an expression so harsh she thought he'd make the perfect principal from hell. His eyes were a milky blue, staring ahead like he was looking beyond the walls of the waiting room.

Vegeta looked both ways, his chin just a bit tilted up in an intercultural signal of superiority before turning to her and shielding her from the onlookers. He produced his necklace from a pouch behind his breastplate and clasped it behind her neck. The heavy medallion encrusted with the sparkling gem hung above her breasts dignifiedly, making her feel almost a bit unworthy. "When I'm summoned, wrap your arms around me and no matter what, don't look directly at him."

Was he telling her this so in the event of failure venom wouldn't hit her straight away? She refused to dwell on the life threatening situation and only nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. He braced his palms against the crystal panel behind her, "From this moment on you are my royal consort. The only thing giving you any sort of worth in the eyes of others is that Rock of Fire hanging from your neck, an ancient Saiyan stone nearly everyone here recognizes. Slaves can be bartered, touched, exchanged, disrespected, but high ranking consorts… no one inside would challenge me for you, or kill you in some sneaky way if they were to be displeased by your mere presence."

He darted a glance over his shoulder at the sound of his name.

"Vegeta, Prince." The strange agent rasped in a voice that reminded her of two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. Bulma only nodded, resolving to go into autopilot so she could put herself through the gruesome situation. He dragged her with him until they were facing the wrinkled creature.

"_Te'an oni'antean Saiya-jin." _The man stated solemnly. Vegeta looked at him down his nose before pulling out a solid rectangular card that glimmered prismatically under the trap lights. The agent slid an end unto a round device that glowed its acceptance before giving it back.

"_Faykari shiniia aeka." _The prince responded, crossing his arms and allowing Bulma to wrap her own around him like an adoring child. His voice vibrated through to her, reminding her of how sexy she found it when he spoke Saiyan. The exchange went on for a few seconds, at times acquiring an edge, as if they were arguing over something. Vegeta shook his head adamantly, boring his midnight gaze on the Ixian with utmost hauteur. "She will pass untouched. She is a rare specimen I acquired on a mission and belongs to a fragile race. She will pass untouched."

The older man's face deformed into features that reminded her of an alligator, scaly, webbed flaps extending from behind his ears and rattling in agitation. God, they truly had reptilian in them, just as she'd imagined before. She clenched her eyes and buried her face against his bicep. "Blue hair, soft skin. She is an exotic race. We desire to inspect her beforehand." The now nubby creature gurgled.

Bulma's gut shrunk in fear. They wanted to take her from him and throw her on some counter to search her every cavity, to probe and dissect her like some lab rat. She intensified her hold, hoping desperately that he wouldn't let them have her. She'd never wanted him more, as a savior, as her dark angel that would shield her with his mighty wings from certain violation.

Tendrils of ki crackled around Vegeta, a signal to his growing irritation. It engulfed him in a soft mantle of indigo that seemed to have an immediate effect on their interrogator. The reptilian hissed. "We pay good crystallite, Prince."

"She _will_ pass untouched." Was all Vegeta snarled, this time sounding deadly enough to freeze anyone's blood. The man muttered something unintelligible but appeared to be weighing the situation. Vacant eyes landed on her necklace before he morphed into a less hideous being, the webbed flaps closing like a folding fan. Gray steel gates parted to the side immediately and she resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

Gosh, the creature, man, you name it, sure was creepy. Old stories of alien abductions and systematic dissection floundered through her mind, but still, miraculously, she held a measure of composure. It was only after the gate closed behind them that she let go of Vegeta, cupping her mouth and attempting to shake the frightening idea of being torn from his side. Her eyes then set on a beautiful sleek black vehicle that looked like a hover car, except a heck of a lot more advanced. It was the only thing in the empty tunnel that extended towards pitch obscurity.

He quickly moved to the opposite side, tapping a code on the astounding piece of machinery and flushing the doors open. They sprang upwards like the wings of a falcon earning her gasp of admiration. "Get in, girl. This will take only a few seconds. We will be landing sooner than you imagine."

"Are they lending us the vehicle?" She inquired, seeing him slide into the driver's seat with the elegance of someone with plenty of experience. He chuckled darkly, waiting for her to be fully seated to bring down the doors and gear up the engine. "No one just "lends" you this type of vehicle. It's a _Bullet Sombrah_, and it belongs to me."

-----------

Blood red irises gazed upwards at a sky lit with the reflection of five moons. The token sirens that accompanied twilight were already blaring across the city and the light beams atop the crystal towers had begun their nocturnal 360 degree sweeps.

He slid a fingertip repeatedly along the twisted surface of the small horns adorning his head. It had been a glad day still riding the high of last night and attempting to recover in time to do it all again. It was in darkness that the city became alive, every sentient being rising from the depths of their cozy mansions like the dead from the depths of their tombs.

What a nice thing to have landed this "job", if he could even call it that, dwelling among the luxurious decadence of this city with its hidden treasures and sinful nature and still holding a dignified position as permanent emissary to the courts of the oriental quadrant. It was good that a year ago justice had finally learned to become pragmatic. Upon luckily finding out about its existence, the High Judges had decided to strike up a little deal. A great deal as far as he was concerned. Instead of pressing charges against this land of all things immoral, Ixia could go on untouched. It could remain a purveyor of illegal appetites… as long as they were allowed entrance. As simple as that, and boy, did his hirers enjoy themselves in their frequent visits.

And this Ixians, by all things unholy, they would sell their own mothers for a handful of processed crystallite. That could only simplify things for him as he waltzed around tagging runaway infidels, spotting criminals featured on the court's black list or fishing intel that could serve them when opportune, all between mind-blowing orgasms. Ah these creatures of the night, so privileged some of them and yet so wicked.

He licked the last remnant of _poison_ from his lips, savoring it greedily, and stared at his image on the huge ornamented mirror that was bolted to the far side. He supposed he should attribute having been picked for this to his looks for which he was more than thankful. The Judges knew Ixians would be a tad more inclined to grant them added liberties if their private ambassador was very pleasing to the eyes. So here he was, sacrificing himself in the name of those who everyone on the eastern quadrants knew as eminences, sacrosanct doers of justice. Well he would keep at it every day of his life if he must. And to think he actually got commissions for this.

"Lord Tallicron" His helper arrived, black hair showering down to the middle of his back much in the same way his did. Tallicron straightened his tall, muscular frame from the cushy divan to perch an incense cigarette on deep burgundy lips. "The hell do you want Secha. Don't tell me, the sighting of another petty swindler? I never dreamt my life could become so predictable." He scoffed and sucked on the black tube, fragrant smoke diffusing through his nostrils.

"Petty swindler? No my Lord. I don't think so. You are not going to believe this."

------------------

Bulma Briefs, heiress to a fortune, renowned scientist, fashion connoisseur, business woman, member of the social ring of the Tea Ladies of West Hill (by her mother's insistence), named "Little Miss Darling" at the age of seven in the city-wide children's pageant and West Capitol's Sweetheart upon turning sixteen, nearly ducked her head between her arms as she walked awkwardly behind the alien prince. They shouldn't have left the Sombrah back on that parking spot for a swarm of servants to tuck away, she thought bitterly.

It wasn't that he didn't allow her to walk by his side, in fact he kept glancing back over his shoulder, sending her reprimanding looks for taking so long to catch up. And she was trying, Lord knew she was, even with the shards of pain stabbing her legs as she clambered along in high heeled stilettos. She just felt dirty and ugly and her surroundings weren't helping at all.

He strode gracefully through a wide stone bridge with big strong pillars that ran as high as her eyes could reach. It was all way too distracting, the long sleek crystal buildings that projected up into the darkening sky from one interminable ocean and the ornamented houses beautifully fashioned like the Asian castles of Chikyuu. Every structure was connected to each other by bridges, not roads, the atmosphere infused with speckles of light that danced in the wind like tiny fireflies.

That was all tear inducing to an earthling, it was besotting, but it seemed strangely irrelevant in comparison to that other part of the scenery that had her looking both ways and feeling inadequate. Stunningly clad aliens glided up and down the wide expanse of the bridge… and most of them were women. No, could that word even apply to the creatures? It seemed like a gross understatement. They weren't just women. They were impossible nymphettes, pages of high fashion magazines come to life. The worse was their look wasn't plasticky or grotesque like the overdone features of a pornstar. They were sublime and appealing in a completely delicious manner. She was particularly stricken by a trio that waltzed by, smiling merrily as their long waves of glossy hair kissed the breeze.

The things they were wearing! Bulma's heart pounded with a nasty blend of contradicting emotions. The fashion lover in her was exhilarated but she was still beleaguered by the knowledge that she, on the contrary, looked like crap. They wore nothing like she'd ever seen in Chikyuu. Their clothing was like lingerie meets haute couture, like Harajuku infused with perversion. Ruffled little skirts and plunging cleavages were obviously designed to showcase their lacy undies in a remarkable balance of perfect taste and haunting sensuality.

Bulma's heel broke and she nearly fell, her stomach jumping between her ribcage. She cursed sourly and tucked a tendril of her tangled hair behind her ear. She snatched the shoe and realized the needle pointed stiletto was now dangling loosely. Great, fantastic. She got it really, destiny shouldn't try so hard to grind in that she was a freaking mongrel compared to the stunning creatures prancing in the vicinity. A backwater mutt from a hovel.

She rasped a few more expletives and threw both her shoes over the bridge, nearly following the self-destructive urge to throw herself as well. A glance and she gasped. No, he was way ahead now. Why did he feel the need to move so quickly? Bulma scampered in his direction, feeling like a derelict trailing the wealthy for a couple cents. And then she noticed them, the looks. A couple of girls leaned against the mighty structure and slid their eyes in Vegeta's direction, appraising him in shameless eagerness and exchanging words with one another. A red-head coming from the opposite end and nearly bumping shoulders with him, and upon doing so, doing a double take. Her eyes then fell on Bulma as she walked by, sweeping her entirely, head to toe, before twisting her lips in obvious disapproval. Damn bitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Was all she could think. With the enormous green eyes and perfect rosy lips. They were all freakin' bitches...

She collided against Vegeta's back and fell back on her ass. "Don't fall behind." He intoned, hoisting her up from her forearm and pulling her to him harshly. He directed his gaze down to her bare feet before refastening it on her mortified face. "And just what did you do with your shoes. I take my eyes off you for a minute and you start dismantling?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to yank her arm back but he dragged her along with him up a narrow detour that spilled unto a small isle with a tower at the end. When they climbed the wide steps that led to the entrance, Bulma trudging with unease and Vegeta nearly carrying her limping body, a child-sized figure cloaked in black greeted them. The garment only left the mouth uncovered, through which the creature spoke as it bowed down. "Your majesty, Lord Prince Vegeta. It has been a very long time."

Bulma frowned at the ceremonious motion of the inferior. "I don't want any unnecessary attention, you hear me? I am here briefly and will be gone as soon as possible so make sure food is brought hastily. Gather the servants to be on standby for anything else I shall need." The strange little hireling merely nodded before retreating. Vegeta opened the platinum gates and after traveling through a narrow corridor arrived at what she presumed was their destination.

He opened the door, threw her in and closed it behind them. It was the very first time she could see the planes of his face relaxing to some degree. All this time he had been walking in a state of perpetual tension and still now it seemed as if he wasn't completely at ease. He had been trained to live in constant alert, to believe his every minute could be his last. Something clenched inside Bulma's chest at the realization of such a traumatic upbringing, the notion that he had lived life without a glimpse of true peace sinking in heavily.

Her eyes followed him as he headed towards the center of the lavish living room, immediately throwing capsule 4 and his transact card on a black table and pulling his breastplate over his head. His undershirt followed, and then the boots, and the rest of his clothes, leaving him only with a pair of tight black undies. Whoever thought Vegeta didn't wear underwear under those muscle hugging garments... she thought waywardly. He strode ahead, past the bank of see-through panels that graced the far side and opened into a wide natural pool.

"Vegeta, wait…" She asked helplessly. The splash that followed was her only answer. She twisted the corner of her lip upwards but decided to take advantage of his absence and examine her lush surroundings. It was obviously a bachelor's pad, the aristocratic, high class version of it. It was painted in dark tones and rich deep blues. The couches looked like they were upholstered in the finest black leather, placed atop the pelt of some enormous animal. The bristles were downy like the feathers of baby geese, or so they felt to the battered soles of her feet. It was all enticing, like nothing she'd ever felt before.

A wide round onyx table stood in the center, a small warm fire wavering mysteriously from the depths of a bowl that rested over it. The beautifully shaped liquor decanters gracing a surface to the side called to her and she approached them, striding her fingertips over the smooth surface of a particularly striking one. Then a light caught her eye and she rounded a corner, coming face to face with what seemed to be his wardrobe. It was wide enough for several people to step in, lined with all sorts of boots and armor sets and to the right a long shelf made of polished black wood showcasing a collection of weapons, scouters and guns. The firearms were all sleek and refined, some of them beautiful like works of art, but it was a small ruby encrusted dagger that caught her attention. The edges of the blade where curvy and jagged, a roaring oozaru carved on the grip. It looked completely deadly and yet it was so alluring she couldn't avoid touching it.

A strong hand clamped on her wrist. "You probably don't want to do that." She jolted, the knife rattling against the surface as her fingers weakened. How long had she been lost in her reverie?

"Where are we?" She decided to question, whirling on him and searching his face for an explanation that could satisfy her now crushing curiosity. He was still damp from the swim, smelling impossibly fresh, a towel thankfully wrapped around his waist. "Were you in a comma all this time?" Came his snide clip, abandoning her limb and turning to the dark collection of clothes. She noticed it wasn't all armor but that it actually included casual items, some of which she would pay to see him wear. They looked like they would suit his tanned complexion perfectly.

"I didn't mean the name of the planet, I meant this place…?" She insisted, a hand gesturing. Vegeta picked a few garments from the depths of the rack and stalked out, closely followed by Bulma. "My father used to own the whole tower back when my people still lived and our culture was prosperous. I don't know how he got granted entry into this world, but he kept the secret of this planet to the royal family with great diligence."

"Family? Royal family'" She repeated, tottering behind him as he punched something on a console lining the center table. "You mean, like it wasn't just you and mean old dad?" Her idea of his father wasn't exactly positive. What sort of man would allow his child to fall in the claws of a cold heartless monster?

He threw a positively murderous look at her before proceeding into an ample bedroom. Dammit, that bed was a tempting mother… Bulma's mind screamed upon alighting on the wide cozy surface. It was draped with silken black sheets and sported richly embroidered pillows that looked soft to the touch. A legion would fit comfortably atop it, she thought morosely.

"You have a very narrow vision of things. My father had his own life you dolt, and a couple of royal consorts who fathered his sons."

Bulma's spit caught in her throat. "Sons?"

"Do you realize you sound like a tired old record repeating all I say?" He quipped. "Now turn around if you feel offended." He added with that twisted smirk that could be both scary and strangely suggestive. He dropped the towel, and Bulma jerked around hastily. Her eyes wandered through the crystal panels an over the silvery waters that lay beyond. "You have brothers?"

"One younger brother, but he's surely dead now as is every other son of Vegeta-sei. His life is inconsequential anyway. I was the one and only crown prince, and my father made sure to carry me with him on many trips, including the clandestine journeys to this region."

Bulma was struck with the very true realization that Vegeta, for all the hard façade he presented to the world, had belonged to a people and a place, that there were things meant for him he never had a chance to live. He was a dethroned heir with a stolen life and what was worse, he was all that was left. His universe had been torn from the roots, his father, his brother and all he'd known as a child killed so a merciless beast could use him at his will. Bulma's lids closed in contrition. "I am sorry." She whispered. "I am sorry it's all gone."

"It doesn't matter anymore so why don't you stop asking pointless questions and go wash yourself." He spat, obviously despising the slightest display of anything that could be considered pity.

Bulma winced at the cold remark but decided to let it slide in the benefit of her curiosity. She sought him from over her shoulder. "You said your family used to own the entire tower. Why did that change? You could have kept it all."

He was silent for a couple of seconds, leading her to believe he was probably not going to answer, but the husky sound of his voice eased her worries. "I had a new life to tend to so I decided to sell the state we owned outside Vegetasei and merely keep this pad." Bulma's lips twitched, the idea that he would want to dispose of everything that could remind him of his family evident. Losing it all from one day to another was something she couldn't wrap her mind around. To end up responsible for yourself at the age of eight and unable to mourn the loss of your world, something unfathomable. He'd decided to discard any weakness so he could focus on surviving, that much was clear, but his identity had remained afloat in the form of the collar ornamenting her chest, in the shape of this place and most importantly in the fierceness of his pride. Bulma touched her fingertips to the rock she carried. This was true royalty, not measured in wealth or possessions, but measured in strength of character.

"Ixia may be a land of thieves and smugglers, but its power in its rawest form. Entry grants you the ability to attain anything you may covet from any region of the galaxy. All is bought and sold, brought right here to you in a silver platter if you just have the crystallite to pay for it. It's also a great place to gather information, which came in handy for the assignments I was sometimes given. Then some other times I just wanted to kick back between missions."

"Kick back and do what?" She asked before thinking. She turned around in time to catch him fastening what she recognized as a Kaltan around his waist. The beautiful dark blue sash draped from the buckle to wrap around his waist and bottom. Smooth caramel skin peered from behind the lapels of a skintight black shirt, almost clamoring to be touched. He looked so compact, so slender and dark, she felt her pulse accelerating. Those were artisanal clothes, made for him exclusively, undoubtedly by highly skilled weavers from his world whose main chore was showering the prince with garments he wasn't even old enough to wear anyway. She had to admit royal Saiyan attire was rather ravishing.

"Woman, for the love of all things evil, go shower so you can eat. I am surprised you're even standing at this point." He shortened the distance between them and grabbed her shoulders in a solid grasp. His nose descended to smell her neck, breath tickling her skin and making her hairs bristle, "You stink of female lust. Make sure to wash very well down under because it's freaking heavy."

He snickered to himself when she tore her arms away and stormed out the room. It was nice how he always got her going…

---------

AN: Yes, that back there was a reference to Tarble, Taburu… or however you want to spell it. Wasn't it neat to get to meet little bro? He obviously wasn't dead. I just love the royal family. Contact me if you have no idea what the hell I am talking about. Now let me go roll around in that bed. (Jumps in and wraps the black silk sheets around her body) mm, smells good.


	17. To Become the Accomplice

**Disclaimer: **This story is written in appreciation to Akira Toriyama. I am not trying to take what is rightfully his, although I'd pester him to death for Vegeta.

**AN:** Surprisingly, I did get many questions regarding Tarble. For anyone who may have missed out on the news, that's the name of Vegeta's little brother, featured in the new animated special that aired in November, "_Yo! Son Goku and his Friends Return!_". I found it delightful and so did most in the fandom. I don't think you can access it through the original site for free anymore, but you can look it up on Youtube. At this point in this story, Vegeta obviously still considers Tarble dead, but we know were he was… far away falling in love with that cute little Gure.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 17 **

Step 18 – To Become the Accomplice

"How many times did I clamor for you when I was a child and not once did you answer, you mean old… alien." She drawled out the words, trapped in a strange ambiguous state of half-consciousness. Her knees were slightly pained by the hard marble they pressed against, a stark contrast to the cushy warm, albeit irregular surface of the lap her head rested on. She was vaguely aware of a wrinkled, leathery hand travelling in gentle motions along her hair, casting the drowsy spell that kept her inert. Her eyes remained closed, face drawn into a cast of perfect serenity. "Couldn't you tell how much I needed you?"

"Now, we both know that is a rhetorical question, don't we?" A short hoarse chuckle rolled over her, reminding her of his old age. "You know I did, and that's what's giving your voice that edge. What you don't know is answers don't always come in the form of words, nor do they come exactly when expected."

"Mmm, hogwash." Bulma's head shifted without rising. A wry lopsided smile disrupted the otherwise tranquil planes of her face for the briefest of moments. "That's little consolation when you don't know what to do. It's an excuse for the way you forsook me, when I walked in circles and thought I couldn't make it without you. And the worse part is… I still am, running around in circles, that is."

The backs of long claws glided smoothly along the curvature of a cheek in a steady rhythm that fostered strange memories of when she was just a baby. That's the overtaking sensation she was sailing on, free and unbounded. Could one even remember that far back? She knew for sure she hadn't ever. "You still are?" He inquired.

"Stop pretending you care all of a sudden." She delivered in a tone that was both mordant and wounded. "I am thoroughly alone in this, and there is not one single being in this world or the following I can even bring myself to broach the subject with. In fact, try the whole damn universe."

A calloused fingertip tapped repeatedly on her temple, a fitting companion to the sudden chortling that followed. "Ah, child, that sharp, snippy tongue of yours did always keep me entertained. But instead of brandishing it like a weapon, why don't you try a more productive approach. I am here now, am I not? Here and now is what truly matters. So what's this about the circles I keep hearing?"

"I…" She hesitated, as if the enormity of what she really wanted to say was too leaden for words to bear. "Would you understand me if I said my heart is consuming? That it started doing so the moment the devil crashed into my life?" One brow lifted, the other lowered and then she sighed, a very long sound that seemed interminable. "In the beginning I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I knew what I wanted out of him. It was something we both deserved you know? I needed to be released from the desire that maddened me. And he… well, he really looked like he needed to get some as well. And I could make things better for him, fix a bit of those terrible ki patterns." Her mouth curled into a grim smile against the soft linen of his robe. "This for that, nothing more." The pitch in her voice fell abruptly, amusement sinking down to near-tangible melancholy. "And yet nothing's the same, hard as I try. I can't forget what happened between us. I can't excise it from my soul."

Her listener grunted low in his throat. "And why that impossible need to fight, you stubborn creature?" The rejoinder wasn't harsh yet the long, knotted hand for once ceased its caresses. "Haven't you fought enough already and isn't that a most solitary way of living, child. You are like a pasture fending off winter for fear of death, when in reality winter is merely a passageway to the flourishing of life."

"Don't try to take my resolve away from me by using pretty metaphors. I love sunshine and gardens like the next girl, but he's a blistering night, cold and impenetrable. He's too far gone and wounded and I can't bring him back." She whispered the last words, lips compressing on the close of the statement. Quiet ensued for an incalculable amount of time before she resumed her speech in a hushed, barely perceptible susurrus. "He doesn't love me."

The all-seeing Guardian of Chiyuu, witness to the crude, harsh reality of billions sighed, understanding all too well the most cruel, agonizing sentiment of all. Lack of love. A black, endless vacuum that stood as a roots to pain and sorrow. A disease prevalent among a cursed creation, brother to emptiness and sister to darkness. If only the grace to wash away such damage wasn't weighed in blood…

"He covets me. He lusts after me, but little more. And the minute I don't suffice... the minute he turns his eyes to another, that moment I cease to breathe. When he's tired of his Chikyuu-jin toy, when he throws me away or bins me into a somber alcove as nothing but the first of his concubines, will you be there to pick me up and piece me back together?"

A small, bird-boned hand fisted the fold of the tunic she was limply leaning on and she exhaled. "I never knew this feeling, not once before. It's dense like the universe, deep like the raging seas. If I let go I just know I will be gone forever, into him until my dying day. And it isn't fair, that for every synapse firing away just how wrong he is for me, how bad and wretched, it's only next to him the world spins right. And it's only in his presence I find purpose and consolation." She grimaced, a shaky breath catching in her throat. "Rather pretty sounding, except for the single fact that he is incapable of love. My future with him, certain desolation. My position, a prisoner to his bed and the witness to the atrocities perpetrated by his command. War waged against my friends, my brothers, when through duty they try to stop him. My consolation, that Chikyuu may be spared for its status as my home world. That is, obviously, until he ceases to care and resorts to pillaging my world."

He anchored his palm on her shoulder, transferring warmth unto her clammy skin. She was struck by a palpable sensation of all-encompassing moisture… where was that coming from? The wayward thought diffused as he delivered a quiet response. "I just for some reason, never thought you a quitter. I believed one long complex algorithm could only kindle the fire within you." He paused, levering the following words with utmost care and tangible sincerity. "The universe needs you Bulma, to recover what we thought was lost forever. This is your calling. I do not promise it will be pleasant. I can't say the path to light is free of flesh-tearing thorns and tribulation, but I can say it is _you_ who must go through it. It is you who gets to walk over the ashes of hell."

"Why me?" She asked.

"Because life wasn't the same when he saw you and it hasn't been since. Because you had the courage to go places no one had and he let _you_. Only you."

Bulma's brows bunched together, an arm fastening around the knees of Kami-sama in earnest, quietly pleading to stay just a bit longer in this place were no time or space could hound a being. His words were dark and ominous, making her blood curdle and her chest close. "Would you take this trial away from me…"

She waited for a response that never came and when she tried to speak her throat had gone numb. The words came out a half-broken croak. "Kami?"

"My Lady?"

Huh? Bulma shook her head, a strange weight dissipating from her body and a gelid sense of consciousness encroaching upon her. Her body awakened slowly, a thousand needles prickling at her until she regained all her senses and remembered in vivid shock, just where she was. She was displayed over warm sparkling waters on a luxurious bath chamber on the second floor of the Prince's lair. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her when her gaze had landed on that shallow circular pool gleaming with a bed of smooth round crystals. She had wondered what its purpose was and after stripping and lying over it, was joyfully rewarded with spurts of water that filtered and curled around her limbs as if they had a mind of their own. Something in those entrancing waters had to be responsible for such a lucid, befuddling dream.

She spread her arms over the layers of crystallite, fingers burying and scooping up the polished little rocks that she now knew had incalculable valuable over the expanse of the galaxy. They were obviously infused with all sorts of puzzling properties. Screw diamonds. Crystallite was a girl's best friend. She moaned in self-indulgence, knowing she was strewn naked over a fortune that was probably enough to purchase a small nation.

"My Lady?" the voice said doggedly, knuckles rapping against the door.

Okay, that did it.

"In a minute!" She flapped her limbs on the smooth swirling waters and sat upright, cursing whomever dared interrupt the _Saiyan-no oujo's_ beauty bath. Wait, _Saiyan no oujo_? Where the hell did that come from? She had been here for a mere couple of hours and she was already delusional. However somber that last thought was, it still didn't wipe an impertinent little smile off her lips.

She rose clumsily and stalked to the door, dripping wet and for the first time wondering just what in heaven's name she was going to wear. The unsettling notion succeeded in setting off the panic button in her brain, images of herself seeking out Prince Vegeta in damp and naked humiliation so he could grin like the smug bastard he was before throwing some rag her way flooding her mind. Damn. She just hadn't thought things through had she? That was happening a lot lately.

Another one of those small little servants greeted her, all cloaked in black, but sounding distinctively female as opposed to that first one at the main gate. "Who are you?" She blurted, a tad more harshly than intended. In truth, she quickly reflected she probably didn't even need to hide so carefully behind the door, as the eyes were completely shielded. How did they even find their way around without tripping?

"Lady Bulma, forgive my intromission. Lord Vegeta sends the following message your way." The little servant produced a small card Bulma grabbed from the tip to avoid soaking. Her gaze wandered over the rectangular surface, eyes studious before her features distorted into planes of confusion. It was nothing but an array of numbers and a signature, all in Vegeta's writing. The strokes were bold but rather harmonious; his name a neat representation of the owner, no unnecessary curlicues or elaborate wisps of ink.

"The teletransferring station can be found to your left on this side of the door, right on this adjacent room."

"I don't understand?" She regarded the hireling with unvarnished puzzlement.

"Do not worry; I am to assist you until dismissed. I am at your service as I've been to the seal of Vejitasei all my life. I am to remain here as long as necessary."

Wow, so their life consisted on tending to masters who were virtually never there? Did they even know only one remained from the house they were evidently sworn to? Perhaps that was beyond the point, considering their lord was still every bit as royal now as he was when he was just a boy.

"Were you brought here by the King himself?" She gingerly asked, weary that her probing would prove far too intrusive.

"Not exactly. Our kind is granted asylum outside the main cities in return for labor as servants. We are appointed to different masters and their dominion, a lifelong oath binding us to them." The girl, (she really did sound like a relatively young girl), continued as she bowed slightly, "Something else you probably should know is you mustn't worry about privacy around us either, my Lady. We are blind by birth. It is by sonar that we are able to move around and make ourselves useful."

"Oh." Bulma replied lamely. This could be the much more developed outer space, but truth was advanced societies everywhere still tended to evolve from a common template. Wealth exists on the backs and shoulders of the more humble creatures who give others the luxury of being catered to. Something in that disagreeable notion had motioned her to perfect servobot technology back in Chikyuu and thus foster something like a revolutionary era. Perhaps the rest of the galaxy could learn something from her "backwards" planet, as Vegeta called it. If she could only instill a change, given enough power…

She physically shook her head and resolved to deal with that later. After giving the girl an indication to give her just a few minutes she retreated into the chamber and dried herself up as quickly as possible. Well, truth was she had taken a brief moment to peruse her skin on the mirrors that surrounded the bathing area and had noticed the silken glow it now possesed. She hadn't put body shimmer on but it certainly looked that way. Had she mentioned just how much she loved crystallite?

A moment later she emerged wrapped in a soft towel.

She noted this adjacent enclosure didn't seem to serve any purpose. It was bare, except for a panel fitted into a wall with a light that tinkled emerald every other second. She strode towards it, punched in the code Vegeta had sent her way and stepped back a little as a strip of light outlined the silhouette of a door. The surface retracted to the right, allowing her and her aide into a wide interior that reminded her of the backrooms she'd visited with her mother on those designer shops lining the streets of the most exclusive boulevards. But they had nothing on this. They would pale in comparison to the endless array of ensembles lined before her. She couldn't see every single garment, but she could tell the fabrics were the same ethereal quality she'd seen in the bridges before arriving here, admittedly without that degree of immodesty.

She could have been impressed out of her wits, but the single thought that crossed her mind came out as an indignant blurt. "What the hell's Vegeta doing with a roomful of women's clothes?" The man was too much of…well, a man, to be presumed any less than that. That she could attest to, which left only one possible explanation. Stormy thoughts paraded through her mind in the form of women all shapes, sizes and body measurements. Had he been staying here with some other bitch???

"We are not literally at the royal suite anymore. That room back there was a terminal that is able to transfer you to different locations depending on the code entered. Lord Vegeta requested the right code for this particular area. He insisted on a storeroom with collections that would suit your expectations."

Bulma was distinctly aware of the vacant, slightly idiotic stare she was proffering the servant. "I… ok, so I am supposed to pick something from all this. Leave it to him to make things complicated for me. Given the fact that he probably expects me to do so in as little time as possible, I will settle for the cheapest thing you got. I don't care what it is. Just bring it over." She had developed an infallible sense for the expensive, and boy, this reeked of it, but she wouldn't want to abuse his coffers. It wasn't just the neat display of clothes on the far-reaching room, it was all the additional glass cabinets, heavy with accessories, shoes, make-up, bags of qualities, colors and textures that would take her literally days to browse through. Squeezing her lips together, she raised her chin defiantly, filling her eyes with the splendorous view one last time before turning her head and pushing the vision away. It was all too pretty, dammit. No one in Chikyuu had ever seen such a thing.

"I don't think you understand. It's all yours, so picking the single cheapest item serves no actual purpose." The girl explained in a tone that suggested that fact should have been obvious from the start. She crossed her arms and craned her head upwards to face her. "Lord Vegeta commented he lacked the time and/or patience to pick something up for you and decided to acquire it all on impulse. He really did seem more concentrated on the conversation he was holding through the domestic scouter he was wearing at the time. He also commented on a special technique you both possessed to pack away the entirety of the room. Something about a ship in a capsule or so."

The small hireling waited patiently for a response that never came. "Are you alright?" She nervously inquired, uncrossing her tiny limbs and beginning to worry when a ghostly pallor supplanted the rosy hue of her master's coloring.

"Yes." She snapped, staring at an indefinite point on the far wall.

---------

Several minutes ensued as she browsed through what stood like a personal treasure of dizzying proportions. Bulma exhaled tiredly, blowing her now dry bangs out of her face. It was all rather gorgeous, except she now knew exactly what she wanted and she just wasn't finding it.

"Help me out here." She snapped over her shoulder at the tiny figure standing on a corner, before resuming her fruitless quest. "Knowing him, he'll be all on me demanding what's taking me so long."

"Well, what _is_ taking you so long?" Chimed the girl, in a manner that reminded her of that sharp practical intelligence a child possessed.

"Alright, alright." Countered Bulma, rearing her mussed up head of blue hair from under a see-through garment. She sighed and notched her hands on her hips. "I think you may be able to place what I am truly looking for. Do you, by any chance, happen to know where I may find garments just a tad more… daring?"

"Daring?"

Bulma suppressed the need to chuckle at the puzzled intonation in the girl's response. It really was rather amusing to see the creature stunned into an upright position.

"I saw clothing today, out there, on the streets that followed a much more intimate cut. It was made out of textiles so thin they seemed to almost be painted on. That is by far the most interesting fabric I've encountered. Don't you have anything like that?

"Of course I do, but that's the one collection my Master told us to dismiss." The girl motioned to an adjacent area. "He briefly stated it probably wouldn't suit your recently acquired more _conventional_ tastes. That's what he said." She added a sly intonation on the word conventional that led Bulma to believe that was probably a watered down version of the term he'd actually employed. Being that crystallite was just not an issue to him, she could tell he truly believed that little factoid.

"Well, your Master was wrong. Pop the doors open."

"Are you sure he'd want you wearing that?" The hireling seemed just a bit alarmed. "He probably also deemed it a tad too revealing for a consort. I am not convinced…"

"Do you realize he'd probably be a bit angrier you are making me waste time by putting up excuses when he expects me ready as soon as possible?" Bulma said crossly, shooting blue daggers at the insubordinate little runt that was standing between her and her statement of rebellion.

"You really like courting death don't you?" The servant stated, sighing and shaking her little head as she moved towards the doors that housed what Bulma so coveted. "For the record, let it be noted I was coerced into this most difficult position." She continued, moving a bench to hop on it and reach the handle to the crystal panels. "He's been known to flay servants on the spot for daring dishonor his instructions." Her tiny hands started producing all sorts of fascinating items from the shelves, Bulma's eyes widening in elation at each one. "But yeah, you're right about one thing. He does expect you at the 35th hour sharp on a second location. Seeing you like complicating matters on incomprehensible grounds, that means I'd better get this over as quickly as possible."

Bulma snorted, a sly grin etched on a self-satisfied face. "And be quiet while at it. You really seem to be an impertinent lot, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Meh." The girl answered, kneeling on the stool and shoving a red piece of clothing her way. "Royalty."

-----------

The ruby-tinted glass piece over his right eye announced the conclusion to the last preliminary conversation of the night with a beep, a finger clicking the side of the scouter to turn it off. His mouth pulled into a dispassionate curl before leaning his head against the stone wall on the balcony that fronted the imposing nightline of Central Island. Endless towers reached towards the skies, blending together like diamond encrusted monsters that emulated giants, casting eyes on him, threatening to eat him alive. He snickered to himself, Saiyan adrenaline stirring up his easily excitable blood, something coming alive at the mere notion of facing a threat.

He pulled up a knee so he could rest a forearm on it, the remaining leg stretched over the wide chrome surface of the railing. He could have taken her himself, arrived at the joint arm in arm with his consort, but he'd decided against the idea almost as soon as it hatched. A little voice within had kicked into major overdrive, insisting she should just be directed to the place and then… well, then he could take it from there. They weren't a couple. She wasn't truly his, was she? And even though she was posing as such, he was compelled to establish certain boundaries. Pretending things were different between them was playing into a dangerous game that couldn't be good… good for him.

He certainly hoped the gifts had suited her taste. Was she smiling right now? Ecstatic over that collection of flimsy, impractical clothing? But then females were fond of such things, and he certainly knew she was one to flail over that kind of stuff. How many times had he witnessed her fret over something as unsubstantial as what to wear? Especially as she prepared for their little trysts. She didn't know he knew about it. She would seat on a pile of multi-colored items unearthed from the depths of that important place she called her closet as he watched from afar, behind her windows. She seemed happy, trying things on, face brightening when she found just the right thing, that same garment he'd later dispose of with eager hands.

"Do you like it?" She'd whisper softly, against his neck, as slender pale arms curled around his neck. "Be honest."

And by all the gods, he did. "Don't ask me such things. You may not like the answer."

She would smile at him, that same self-satisfied expression that told him she'd already gotten her response in more ways than one. She sought his eyes when he averted his, when he felt that tinge of discomfort manifest as red patches over his nose and cheeks. But she'd touch his chin gently and tilt his gaze her way, and then fingers would draw a path down his cheek. "Words are unnecessary." So he'd remain quiet, brows together and more self-conscious then she had a right to make him. And then exhalations on his part, on hers, and going at it until sunrise.

A touch of the breeze and Vegeta opened his eyes, the moons embedded in the sky with their different sizes and degrees of intensity catching his attention. And hadn't she once said she was fond of the moon? Chikyuu-jin women were rather sissified in their tastes, with their particular penchant for anything that glittered.

That day, eons ago, long before her parents disrupted the rare routine they'd established by showing up, she'd been wearing a tiny top with the word _angel_ written across her chest in sparkling letters. At first he'd believed she had picked up the garment by mistake, its small dimensions suggesting it was meant for an underage child, but she'd been quick to clarify her navel was indeed supposed to show, to which he'd responded with a glare of confusion.

Had it been a Sunday? All he truly remembered was she'd been chanting one of those three minute compositions Chikyuu-jin so adored, and her croons reached out to him from the depths of the kitchen. But then one of those felines that populated the compound uttered a high pitched mewl that rang through the living room with ear-piercing intensity.

"Vegeta! Leave the damn cat alone for Kami's sake!"

He'd refrained from growling, hand aching from the need to pull at the fur ball's tail again in merciful punishment for sinking its ungodly maws on the helping of tuna he'd settled over the coffee table. He'd been fastening his sneaker's shoelaces and that single distraction was all it'd taken for the annoying domestic beast to pounce on the delicacy. Words of indignity caught in his throat before something finally seeped through in the form of an angry sputter.

"Which cat? You'd better be a little more specific. You fucking have a knack for obnoxious animals." Oh, he'd set himself for that one. He deserved the comeback.

"I won't argue about that, Mr. Oozaru." She bit out, a head full of still damp tendrils appearing from behind the wall of the kitchen. Her blue eyes regarded him slyly. "Now leave the poor creature alone. These stupid tuna wars have got to stop."

Vegeta stood up, crossed his arms and threw her a disgruntled look. "Your approval of that noisy bag of bones is truly remarkable, woman. The fact it's guilty of perpetrating the crime seems past the point. Should I learn to mewl like it so I can too get a fraction of such mindless grace?" He voiced with heavy sarcasm "Would that spare my eardrums the sound of your shrill vocal chords?"

His askew glance grew exponentially wide as she laughed daringly. Then the corner of her mouth lifted into a playful smirk that went along with the mischievous glint in her eye. Tiny shorts swayed side to side, riding just above thighs that were interminable, the garment low on her hips, almost offering her belly button to him so he could lick it. Oh and he would, sooner than later. She certainly deserved to be shown some discipline.

A wooden spoon waved at him. "You are jealous of the cat, _Oujisama_?" She asked feigning coyness. "How interesting. But you shouldn't really. I used to sleep with a kitty cat but I'd rather go Saiyan now. And I'll give you twice as much tuna to compensate for your loss, I promise." She tilted her head, that pearly wide grin that could unsettle him to no end still firm and unwavering.

He hmphed and averted his eyes, offering his imperial jaw to her instead of a verbal reply. To what she threw the wooden spoon aside, sauntering in his direction. And all too suddenly her palms were reposing on the width of his shoulders, then smoothening over the white t-shirt he'd thrown on that morning. Somehow her fingers weaved their way under his biceps until her arms surrounded his slender torso. "One more pout and I am yours." She chuckled against his lips then bit the lower one a bit too harsh.

He winced. "Do your people have anything resembling nobility? It seems you don't know the proper way to behave around highborn individuals."

The insufferable bitch actually laughed, quite literally in his face. Her arms unwound, grabbing his hands in the process and pulling him towards the plush couch they'd made unprecedented things on many nights before. She, with her puny force, pushed him unto it, climbing over to straddle him as he lay there looking at her behind puzzled eyes. Why had she been so joyous that day? When she looked at him? Why had she spoken so enticingly, so softly? The way no one ever spoke to him.

"I liked what happened this morning. Did you?" And her hands had snuck under his t-shirt, gliding heatedly over the suddenly tense muscles of his lower abdomen.

"You keep asking these questions." He'd muttered under his breath. "Questions there's no point in asking."

More gentle laughter from her throat, like some song composed for his ears alone. A long-nailed finger had found its way to the dip of his belly button and it drew circles over it, sending his stomach into quivers. "That's wretched." He said in a voice that sounded unnaturally throaty to even him. So his hands had fastened unto her hips, thumbs pressing their way towards to the center of her belly, searching that indentation that had been teasing him all day. And when he found it, the pads of both digits stopped there to play, pressing and rubbing as his mouth watered.

A tiny sound emerged from her mouth and she angled south until her mouth found his. Then a squeal, a jolt, when his fingers buzzed with ki on the very center of that little button. He didn't even remember plotting his actions. They somehow just… happened, like a product of some dangerous instinct that became unleashed in her presence alone. Her irregular laughter wiped any more thoughts as she framed his face with her forearms. "Do you like this?"

Well, who wouldn't? Who wouldn't flinch as she moved like that on top of him? Was it some attempt at taking control away from him? Such impudence… such ripe, juicy impudence. "Tell me what you want, what your secret fantasies are." She dared inquire, eyes absorbed in his lips. "I am yours, remember? Wasn't that what you said before?"

She had been a rather good liar, an amazing actress, an artful deceiver. The way she kissed him afterwards, imprinting the words in his mind. It had been perfect, the tone she'd used, the motions of her fingers as they rubbed against the back of his ear. Tender spot for a Saiyan, and she'd learn that little fact quite quickly. "Tell me your deepest secrets…" She whispered in his ear.

How long had they kissed afterwards? How heavily? His arms straining with the need to avoid crushing her ribs in his embrace.

And after enjoying her mouth thoroughly…"You will enjoy outer space." He'd spoken before he even knew he had. "Life as a concubine can be rather rewarding. I'd settle us in a place that pleases you and is adequate to our offspring. Only servants that hold my absolute trust would be allowed in your presence."

And her entire frame had frozen for a fraction of a second. "Offspring?" She asked, her head shooting up to look at him in surprise.

His lips folded into a lopsided smile, a hand suddenly smoothening over her womb as she sat there perched on top of him, bug-eyed. "Offspring, yes. I need brats to rule properly, and raise a house that will be strong and feared. True loyalty can only be garnered from your own blood. Haven't you seen how potent the mix is between Chikyuu-jin and Saiya-jin?"

She cleared her throat, her voice a tad pitchy. "And just how many 'brats' are we talking about here?"

"You'll have help, don't worry." He'd stated, concerned she would feel overwhelmed with raising his children. "Nothing should tax your mind or wear you out physically. I don't want any of you damaged in the least." At which point he was sure his damned eyes had actually twinkled. Sometimes he loathed himself. "And we will take our time to do it right, leaving just enough time for you to recover. You'll have everything you need. I can swear to that."

He was sure she'd be able to handle it with her intelligence and resourcefulness. He'd provide her with enough help to aide her in raising a healthy family of say, half a dozen little cubs with wiggling tails. And trinkets, as many as she wished, so she could take them apart and put them back together. She'd be happy enough. He'd personally see to it with every resource he possessed. "They will grow up strong warriors, powerful enough to slay and conquer innumerable worlds and secure a nice portion of the galaxy. You will hardly notice any prolonged absence of mine with a proper household to run and the amount of technology from dozens of worlds you'll be able to study."

There was something odd in her eyes. Something disquieting that made him narrow his eyes. She'd looked about to say something and then….

Then the world changed unexpectedly. One second he'd been transfixed on the peachy curvature of her cheeks, the rosy lips widening and the next he was thrashing about in the couch trying to tug something out off his hair. "Get it off me!" He roared as soon as he felt the claws of that pesky black feline clamp down on his head and tangle in the long spikes there. He was vaguely aware of Bulma's half maddened peals of laughter as she attempted to do as he asked. "Don't hurt him!" She cried out, striving to unlock the paws of the sneaky little pet he was sure was far more conniving then they give it credit for. The damn rat had purposefully waited on him to be at his most vulnerable to jump from behind the arm of the couch and attempt to eat him.

"Bulma!" He kept bellowing, the animal on his head screeching and hissing.

"Vegeta! Vegeta, stay still!" When she'd finally pried the thing off his messed up hair she'd smartly pushed it as far away as possible. He'd long snapped to a standing position, heaving and sputtering curses in a million dialects. And still she'd laughed, running her fingers over his mane to give it back that neat upright look.

Vegeta returned to the present, lowered his eyes to the palm of his hand, casting aside the memories that now seemed ancient. A tiny smirk tugged at the side of his lips, when he noticed the twirling ki that was gathering in the center of his hand, glowing blue and spinning until it formed a semblance of those perfumed vegetables Chikyuu-jins called roses. His brows lowered, wondering if he'd gotten the shape right. That same distant day, that day life had somehow been perfect, the sun melted over the horizon when she remarked how gorgeously, (those were her words), the plants had bloomed. He had only grunted but she cut one out and adorned her wavy hair with it before stalking back into the kitchen. She really was crazy.

How had he come to own such a fragile little crazy thing?

Own her… Vegeta's lips twisted in bitterness and formed a fist, the form twirling slowly in his palm extinguishing immediately. Memories of her kissing her boyfriend flooded his mind with blinding intensity, vile rising to his throat and souring his mouth almost simultaneously. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching when the merciless bout of thoughts hit him. Her inviting little smile as she inched in his direction over that balcony, a dainty hand pulling the other closer, his mouth clamping over hers, savoring the woman with abandon. The kiss deepening, promising an eventful night, the same way she had with him so many times before.

Vegeta exhaled, chuckling dryly to diffuse the tension that had gathered on his limbs.

How could she…

Jarring images of her body touched by someone else run boundless, strange hands over her skin, splaying her legs, hoisting her up to sink into the corners he'd adjusted for him and him alone. Her fingers raking over the idiot's back, his mouth against her neck, her cries as he rammed into her.

Vegeta pushed the idea as far away as he could for fear of imploding. Every time he went there a hairy beast reared its head deep within that recondite region even he didn't venture into. It was fanged and disfigured and it thirsted for blood, her blood. It needed to suffocate her, own her, split her asunder until all she breathed was him. It wouldn't stop until it tore her open and drank every last little drop of her essence. It sought revenge in its most perfect form, needed to make her pay for doing this to him. Because being numb was always a thousand times better and she'd dare take that away from him that night she betrayed him like a little harlot.

--------

Note to self: consider research and development on teletransferring ports back in Chikyuu. The sheer potential such technology had to make life much more efficient was simply mind-boggling. It was taking her every bit of self-control to refrain from tinkering with one of those control panels and go into a splicing and resplicing binge. She had more pressing matters to see to, and the confounded look in Vegeta's face was something she wouldn't want to miss for all the high tech knobs and whistles in the galaxy. That's what you got when you left a woman alone in a vault full of drapery. You just never knew what you were going to get.

She barely tolerated the several seconds it took for the gate to activate after punching in the string of numbers and symbols. He was supposed to be waiting for her at this other mysterious location, probably ready to get down to business and seek out some underground dealer that could provide them with a gazillion megatons of raw power in the form of a reactor. Enough to destroy a planet of the density of Chikyuu. She inhaled a lungful of air, snuffing out the disturbing notion that she was helping him acquire a bomb of genocidal proportions. She may as well wrap it in chiffon and hand it over to a mass murdering criminal.

"Isn't this like you, Bulma?" She told herself, sure she was approaching that point of near madness where soon to be lunatics begun talking to themselves as a coping mechanism.

And then the doorframe lit up and dinged, like a microwave oven announcing a fresh batch of popcorn. She crossed through the threshold and, despite her previous mental preparation, couldn't help but gape at the marvelous ability these aliens had to open portals unto completely different spaces with nothing more but a code.

The gate behind her swished back, trapping her in a venue that was dimmer than expected, fuzzy red lamps on the walls casting pools of light over the sleek contours of the oval tables. An intriguing and pleasant swirl of perfumed smoke reached her with potent intensity, and she gauged this was some strange version of a late night bar, except it seemed to roll on forever and multiply into innumerable trails. And just as that distressing knowledge began to sink into her guts and twist them with a sudden sense of fear she spotted him.

Oh yeah, the hair was unmistakable, the poise and the air of indolent arrogance. He was standing next to a bar counter, doing something undecipherable with a tiny crystal chalice. Too many aliens transited between he and she, distorting her view, allowing her only a tiny glimpse of him tapping a tube on the edge and swirling the container around before throwing his head back and gulping its contents down.

Well, well, here I stand, fresh meat for anyone to just snatch up and violate while Mr. Laid-back down there does mystery shots like we've got all night. The tight composure of her face suffered severe disconfiguration when she saw a blonde chick, two ponytails, very young looking and big breasted park next to him, exchange a couple of quick remarks with a stern faced Prince, loiter for a few seconds, smile slyly and slither back into the crowd. She gaped in indignation. Was someone so young even legal in this part of the galaxy? Were those boobs real? Oh psssh they couldn't be. No way.

Where they?

She battled down a growl in lieu of something more befitting the way she looked. Even though his attitude was so cavalier it was infuriating, lending herself to an outburst of apoplexic proportions could only mean ending up all disheveled, and he'd probably remain his usual aloof self anyway. Ah no. That'd be the day. She could have stormed down the steps that separated them and slapped his conceited visage in the right direction but she resolved to stay rooted until he deigned acknowledge her presence. Seriously, was she such picayune matter that he wouldn't throw the damn teletransferring station a single glance? UGHH

And then… then it was all just right. His eyes latched unto her like he'd known just were to look and his face went blank. So she, with that delicate art that only came natural to women, walked down the carpeted steps, fixing him with an imperturbable expression she secretly congratulated herself for. She could have sworn his face had turned several shades of purple, all while his nostrils flared.

"I thought I sent a roomful of clothes your way. How is it then, you managed to walk in naked?" He grated, nailing black daggers on her upturned face the minute she reached him.

"Gosh, my Lord, you certainly have a penchant for hyperbole." She said acidly. "The room contained a few items you probably hadn't considered, that's all."

And he went silent, mouth slightly opened as his eyes perused her every curve, lingering just a tad too long in certain areas. Could she blame him? He could be a Prince, a Saiyan, a Mercenary bla bla, but he was male after all. That remarkable fabric with very flattering push up properties hugged her figure in the form of a very short halter hotpant jumpsuit, the color of fresh blood. The cleavage dipped down almost to her navel, the Saiyan Rock of Fire heavy and shiny against the pale skin.

The red high-heeled sandals were rather uncomfortable, like every pretty shoe, in her vast experience, usually was, but they had grown on her. Literally. The minute she put them on, the straps had started curling around her ankles and over her calves until they settled on a pattern that was exactly the same on each leg.

She batted the lids of her smokey eyes at him, flicked a cascade of glossy blue curls over a shoulder and smiled. She was almost sure he was about to start foaming from the mouth and yell she looked like a whore. Except, last time she checked Ixian fashion was rather avant-garde, so what right did he have to expect her clad in vaporous dresses? His jaw was still tense.

"If you're expecting me to say thank you for the gift, you'll have to wait a little longer. Are you trying to buy me, Vegeta?"

That did it. He sprung from his trance and gave her a malicious grin, inclining his head to husk in her ear. "If you had named a price, I would have paid it a long time ago." Every bundle of nerves on her skin fired up. He pulled back slowly, not enough to deprive her from the perturbing sensation of his breath over her lips.

"Someone could have kidnapped me just a few minutes ago." She told his mouth.

"I can smell you the moment you walk into a room. It fills my nostrils stronger than incense. It travels through my synapses like a drug." He answered gutturally, "I knew you were there all along."

She blinked, seeking his dangerous charcoal eyes charily. "Now what, then? I'm sure you wouldn't want me going back to change would you?"

He turned his gaze back to the strange little tube that rested near the chalice, scooped it up and snuck it in a pocket beneath his Kaltan. "Now you remain quiet until told otherwise while I do what I used to do so long ago." He replied, motioning her to follow him into a narrow underlit tunnel.

She trailed after him on the passageway. Murmurs… slow pumping echoes of strange music reverberating across the walls, a place so vast she hung unto his arm with all she got for fear of getting lost.

"This area is secure. There is no one to worry about. Well, no one but me." He chuckled humorlessly down at her, a pupil glinting. The aura of ungodliness in the place made her wonder if she had died without realizing it and had somehow been dragged down to hell.

"You said you were going to do what you did long ago. What did you mean?" She questioned sliding her hand down a hard arm until her fingers curled with his. He halted his step to slide a finger over the soft contour of her chin and tilt it upward. "That means be a criminal. Or did you think acquiring that kind of reactor was legal without a license?"

In that place where she would have expected to see a semblance of compunction, only a smoldering smirk prevailed.


	18. Pass It

**Disclaimer:** All I own are like three SWEET BV doujins with very neat covers, one of which is not for kiddies. This work is strictly non-profit.

**Warning:** Please, refrain from reading on if you are easily disturbed. The reason I say that is this is a very adult chapter, and I don't mean that necessarily in a sexual way. I am forcing Bulma into a very dark world were sin runs rampant. I do not condone crime, drug use or any other thing portrayed here (really). It's just a matter of fiction.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 18**

Step 19 – Pass it…

She wasn't hungry, she was ravenous and on top of that, she was burning up. The peculiar amalgam of sensations threw her back to those endless days trapped in Capsule four with no one else but her "master". It was the same need come back to haunt her, a desire to not just eat, but to actually devour, to drink with enough greed to snap her innards open. And the heat in this underlit basement room was reminiscent of the vicious temperature in the spaceship, equally oppressive, her body issuing its silent protest in the form of damp skin and a flushed face. That brutal torture had lasted seven days, after which she thought she'd finally be free of every maddening want, but the more the time passed, the more lost she was. Chikyuu had become an incongruous mesh of faceless individuals and a strange juxtaposition of blurry events. The further from it, the hungrier she became, the more distance separated her from home, the more darkness taunted her. Night had never been more appealing, comfortable and familiar, her seemingly permanent companion. A perfect time to play, incomparably rich and mysterious, terribly misunderstood and painfully beautiful, and she was sure she was falling in love with it. No matter if its claws were sharp and threatening and they aimed to pull her away from light forever.

She doubted the need would ever be fulfilled, even if she actually were to eat anything, but she still harbored a measure of hope. Perhaps that was all it really took to chase away every demon, the simple act halting the short circuiting taking place in her brain. How long since she'd last give into her cravings with gluttonous abandon? It had been weeks without drinking to her heart's content, licking every drop until her thirst was satisfied, but now that she was out of that confinement, being hungry was nothing but her very own fault. Here she sat next to the man who signified her universe now, reproving herself for having wasted precious time plowing through pretty clothes instead of polishing off the sumptuous array of food on the first floor of that royal suite. At that pesky servant's insistence she'd ducked her head down the stairs and caught sight of it but foolishly decided against indulging in any of it, running back up to preen in front of a mirror for a whole hour instead. Did that make any sense whatsoever? Was enticing the man she was supposed to hate really more important than starving? Apparently so.

She held a sigh in as she sat with her back against his side, facing away from the thick wooden table he was resting his forearms on, as behooved a consort, according to very a stern indication on his part. Perhaps it was weakness that had rendered her mute when she'd ordinarily protest, and boy was she refraining from doing just that now that he seemed to have forgotten she was even there. There he was, fully concentrated in negotiations with an unsightly creature that, thankfully, at least spoke pop-lang. The small gray, slug-like individual, wiggled his antennae, dangled a cigar from his lips and pressed keys on a digital transaction system all at the same time. He was flanked and diligently watched by two ponderous humanoid individuals that eyed the electronic device with blank faces. She guessed their combined IQs were probably dramatically lower than that of their little chief, who incidentally looked rather unapproachable. The frown and the suit were far too serious.

"7.890 C?" He groused after perusing information in the system and taking his eyes off it to direct them at Vegeta. "You and I have closed many a deal for amounts far higher than this, Prince, and the items in question were far less complicated to extract than this one." Its shapeless form shifted in place, beginning to glisten from the sweltering heat that pressed down on the occupants of the dingy area.

He had barely finished speaking when an aide widened his eyes and blurted and exclamation. "But boss, 7.890 is more than we've seen this whole temporal arch." The voice was thick, dull and slow, and she marveled at how well it went with that highly idiotic aura he unknowingly sported. His face fell almost immediately, the chief growling up at him with hell-bent eyes that threatened to obliterate him in the spot. "Would you just shut up, you moron!" He spat. "Next time you feel the need to speak without permission, make sure to curl up and die first."

"You really are a dolt!" Hissed the other flanker baring a fang in the process.

"And you keep quiet too!" The tiny man shook in impatience, banging his fists on the table.

Vegeta snorted, leaning back and folding his arms over his broad chest. "Go yell at your minions in your own time, Guls. I don't plan on staying long in this planet and my offer's final so get to the fucking point already, will you." Thank you, dumbasses. Now he didn't need to spend one more bead of Crystallite on a deal they just weren't in a position to refuse. True he had killed enough people and pillaged enough worlds to earn a precious amount in payments, not even counting what he'd gathered from looting, gambling and plain thieving, but come on now, it wasn't like he was as loaded as he'd truly want to be. His stash was still pretty good though, for a dethroned prince serving under Frieza. At that thought he grinned maliciously and fixed the other man with a stare that made something crystal clear: the gastropod had lost the argument and should avoid bullshitting his way to a better deal, because he sure wasn't getting one.

And still, the dealer's eyes flickered with greed. He wasn't known in all lower circles for nothing. This was someone with the incomparable ability to smuggle even the soul of a demon into heaven, or so legend went. Along with his infamy as a stupendous contrabandist, came knowledge of his uncanny ability as a negotiator. He shook his head in flusteration and met Vegeta's eyes head on. "I can only get you a 250.5 GWE BWR for that amount. I hope that satisfies your requirements because I sure can't get anything better than that for less than a few thousand more Cs."

She could feel Vegeta's gaze dart to her immediately, and even if he hadn't sought her with those incandescent eyes he possessed, the words were already forming in her mouth with the fierceness she'd often employed in the boardroom. "Oh, will you give me a break? I built one of those at the age of 14 for a science fair at school." Then the geek in her pushed through to the front unashamedly. "What I need is a Super Fast Neutron Reactor with a capacity of at least 700 GWE and 250% efficiency in comparison to any average Pressurized Water Reactor. Nothing less will do. I will give you the data you need as concisely as possible so even you know what I am talking about." She moved her fingers adeptly over the keyboard, entering the enormous amount of technical specifications she'd memorized en route to this mysterious world. She withdrew her fingers and looked at her audience, finding nothing but a trio of blinking startled eyes.

The brick-heavy silence that sunk on the room broke as soon as the sound of her rumbling stomach pierced through it, her cheeks reddening almost immediately.

The burly henchmen blurted out a strident laughter and the little slug-man stopped gawking to instead give her a toothy grin. She twisted her neck to look at Vegeta in somber indignation half expecting him to be laughing too but thankfully his face remained impassive.

"My, my, the consort is brazen. Vegeta, dare I say your gusto has evolved. Not just exotic, but brainy." The tiny crook chuckled dryly. "She on the market by any chance?"

"What'll be on the market is your damn liver if you don't manage to produce the exact device she is asking for by tomorrow morning." He responded viciously, angling forward and banging his fist on the table. The glare he fixed on the shrinking dribble of a man could have molten a glacier or worse, slit him into a neat little stack of gory slices had he added any ki to it.

"Fuck…" The dealer muttered in a shudder. His eyes had grown exponentially wide and he'd spontaneously started sweating like a rapist. His towering aides seemed to have lost their good humor as well and backed down, flinching and hugging their laser guns with fidgety hands.

Vegeta sneered diabolically, his face contorting into an evil mask that sent a chill down her own spine. "You were always exceedingly hasty in your delivery times. I presume your service hasn't gone downhill, or I will be VERY disappointed and you certainly don't want to see me disappointed, do you?"

"Tomorrow. 15th hour sharp. I will send the direct coordinates of the drop-out location to your scouter through a secure channel." The slug responded in a rapid machine gun delivery of words that almost left no pauses. Something rippled below the area that could have been considered his chin, and Bulma took the peculiar motion to constitute a straining gulp. "I assume you still have the _Sombrah_ with you? You might need it tomorrow. Quiet the challenge that precious one was. Very pricey as well."

Vegeta's face relaxed some and he backed down allowing the other three creatures to slouch their shoulders in relief. "Of course I still have it. You think I am going to pay that kind of Crystallite to just throw it out or something? Now here's the damn card." He unearthed the sleek rectangular item that could obviously put even her own private bank account to shame and slapped it down on the table. And while he did he fixed her with a glance, almost like he wanted to make sure she was attentive to his elegant display of financial prowess. "Go process the payment", he told her face, like he was talking to her and not the dealer.

Bulma only quirked a brow, grimacing both from the hunger pains slashing through her clenching gut and the very blatant macho-like attitude he was showering her with. Leave it to him to give arrogance a new definition. She almost wished he actually didn't have anything to be arrogant about, but dark and handsome, financially solvent, (even if the origin of the assets was shady), powerful and strong was too difficult to slide under the carpet. Oh that's right, and he was also a prince. Damn him.

"Moog, go process the payment and get me the Iridian contact on the line." The boss handed the blank faced guard the shiny card without even looking at him. "Boss, remember what happened last time I tried to process one of these?" The enormous brute answered in concern. "This is one of those extremely sophisticated cards, I…"

"Aw shut up and move aside will you". The little man barked, hopping down from the chair he had been perched on. He then slid, quiet literally, to the backroom, disappearing behind a swirl of dark curtains.

Bulma let out a huge breath. She fanned herself with a hand to refresh the porcelain skin on her neck, which had grown damp and now glimmered with a thin film of sweat. She then emitted a girly "ow" when she felt a very irritating sensation. It took her a moment to realize, not without extraordinary surprise, that Vegeta had just pulled her hair. "Whiny-ass, why the hell are you still hungry?" He asked leaning slightly her way and frowning down in puzzlement.

She inhaled through her teeth sharply and rubbed her scalp. "I just didn't have any time left. I'll say no more so don't give me any hard time about it. You wouldn't understand." She sent him a look that was every bit as intense as the one he was giving her. "Can we just go get something after this?"

Vegeta seemed to choke on his words, looking at her through a disgruntled expression. "Didn't have time? What were you doing? Did putting on a tiny scrap of clothing take you two whole Ixian hours?" His lips furled back in clear disapproval.

"I told you, you wouldn't understand, didn't I." She muttered under her breath. "I am a woman, wo-man." She enunciated. "Not some member of the military who must obey your every command blindly. What did you expect? You send me such gifts and I am supposed to somehow be able to find enough time to stuff myself as well?"

"You're a damn nuisance is what you are." He bit down at her, arms crossed in a regal, yet laid back poise that should have been trademarked under his name.

"Do you want to get me started? Are you a masochist, oh gracious master, almighty lord of mine?" She grumbled in his face, feeling especially cranky all of a sudden. He smiled with animalistic vigor. "Your progress is remarkable, I am almost proud of you…" Then sunk his nose into her hair pushing her tendrils away so he could husk something in her ear. "…slave." The heavy provocation sent a flurry of memories through her agitated mind, but they dissipated when he tugged on her hair one more time. Bulma emitted a tiny, undecipherable sound and pulled away. "What are you in, highschool?"

And he chuckled down at her, incredibly amused for some reason that eluded her. "High school?" He intoned. He had a vague idea what she meant from having heard the same term repeated several times on those pedestrian receivers back in her house. "When you were in that high school you talk of, I was commanding an army, toppling monarchies and having my boots kissed by kings. Be mindful how you talk to me."

"Blaaah… blaaaah… blaaah…" She mocked in a comical voice, rolling her eyes and swaying her head. "Aren't you forgetting something? When I was in high school being admitted to every **A** League college in Chikyuu you were already a convicted felon. Quiet the thing to be proud of."

"One more word and I'll have to get you back in line." He snapped in indignation, a brow slightly quivery and a muscle in his jaw tensing.

"Oh how? By pulling my hair again?" She laughed with such sassiness the sound sent a flurry of invisible kisses down his spine, until they exploded in a wave of sensation deep in his groin. Her nose was almost touching his, the impertinence drugging him up.

"You little…"

"Ahem." The slug announced loud and clear. They both turned at the same time, surprised to see all three lowlifes fixing them with a wide eyed stare. Vegeta recomposed himself and snatched the card back from the dealer. "Got something stuck in your throat?" The Saiyan muttered.

The dealer only winced. Truth was in all the years he'd had to deal with the mercurial prince, he'd never seen him talk to any one that way, with that flicker of genuine fire in his eyes, especially not a female. But what was more surprising is he'd never seen a woman answer back so fearlessly.

Through time they'd dealt everything from poison to vehicles, weapons to information, he'd seen him not only grow taller in stature but also in raw power. He appeared a bit more muscled every visit, flaunting an aura that sucked the very breath off his lungs. And now… now he could only shiver at the amount of potential energy he assessed his customer possessed in every muscle, and combined with the scientific genius of the woman, well, he was going to make darn sure that reactor was delivered within the agreed timeframe whatever it took.

When the couple left, after having exchanged a few more comments relevant to the transaction, he slouched, wiping the sweat off his brow. A long pause later, when he had fully regained his wits and he'd made certain the Iridian contact was already extracting the reactor from the science repositories of the underworld, he slithered back into his backroom closely followed by the feckless guards he was already thinking about firing. The brainless creatures were more likely to shoot themselves in the foot than actually help him should he find himself in a perilous situation.

"Moog, Goom. Hand over my cigar case, will you." The dealer hopped on a little stool, tapping keys into a console to monitor his several orders in transit. After a long eldritch silence where nothing happened, he straightened his spine and twisted around to scold the laggards, but before ending the phrase he'd already sensed the tremor of impending danger. "Dammit, what's taking you so…" The Moogoom brothers were nowhere to be seen, and in their place stood three slender, horned figures with eyes that gleamed from the depths of the inky shadows.

"So I understand you got a reactor on the way?" The center one remarked, the question sounding more like a statement. Oriental demon, the voice, the bearing… it all reeked of it.

"What's this about?" The dealer answered, having a vague idea what the answer might be. Was it possible… had Ixia truly been infiltrated? Impenetrable Ixia, finally corrupted by the one thing lower than it? "How did you get in here?"

"You did not answer my question, scourge of the underworld. Explain to me why I shouldn't just bag up your abominable body and throw it in prison?" The tall, long haired intruder stepped forth, the light from the lamps tacked on the walls creeping over his body obliquely.

"So I gather you'd rather I cancel the delivery of the reactor." The little man concluded with remarkable cynicism, believing nothing lasted forever, and thus resigning himself to gruesome fate. He was about to press the Iridian line on the console to balk the process he'd so keenly set in motion a few minutes before when a bout of cold laughter halted his intention and curdled his slimy blood.

"That could prove problematic for both you and me. Besides, I'd rather test what I hear about you being the best around. I don't understand how it took me so long to find this little nook. It seems you really are one of this planet's best kept secrets."

"And I hear oriental demons are nothing but hypocrites. Pleased to meet your acquaintance. Now why don't you tell me what you truly want?" The three unexpected visitors surrounded him until suffocation overtook him, the one who was clearly the leader, bringing his palm down on the console with utter confidence. "You pitiful infidel, the reactor truly doesn't concern me at this point but why don't you get me something else while you're at it? Something truly handy… something I'll pay good money to have." The dealer's molluskish features scrunched in response and formed a contemptible sneer. The interlocutor grinned, long black hair dangling down from behind the twisted horns on his head. "Not that you have to answer that. It truly isn't a question… more like a command."

----------------

"Remind me again why I brought you." He said in a tone that sounded both mordant and frustrated, escorting her through a series of passageways until they reached something that resembled an atrium. The unearthly moonlight there filtered through a distant crystal ceiling and played games with the silvery waters spurting up from the floor in curious patterns. "Because you are not an expert on advanced nuclear physics. Because you are a selfish sonofa…"

"I knew I could count on you to refresh my memory, and as a matter of fact it serves you well. It's that mouth that has kept you alive thus far. You are a skillful word manipulator and a deceiving little vixen." He bit in, that sullen expression firmly set.

Bulma barely cast a glance his way, more attracted to the water display before them and how cool and refreshing the filtering streams appeared. She eyed them hungrily, promptly deciding what she truly wanted to do and how much she didn't care about the consequences. She was as hot as if she'd just exercised for an hour straight and the water gushing out gracefully from the crevices in the floor was much too tempting. She stalked towards the center of the court before he even realized what she was doing.

"Get the hell away from there, woman." He chided, his nostrils flaring and his forearms tensing. "That's merely decorative. Are all Chikyuu-jin women so damn brainless?"

Bulma, who'd raised her hands to sift her fingers through her now wet strands as water hit her every curve, suffered a strange moment of aggravation. She flung her arms down and leveled him with fiery eyes before screaming at the top of her lungs. "Vegeta, can you tell me just what the hell your problem with me is, honestly. It's like you're obsessed with making my life miserable! Can't you just leave me alone!" Wow, so the beast in her had emerged, but honestly, she had reached the end of her rope. She went on yelling, very frustrated, raspy sounds that suddenly acquired a Vegeta-like intonation. "Woman, you are so stupid. Woman, come here, go there, do this, do that… Why don't you just tell me what your fucking problem is???" And then, out of the blue, her eyes went wide and she experienced an epiphany. She remembered little Timmy from Elementary school. The snot nosed little scoundrel had made her life a misery all through 4th grade, until one day, upon the exuberant encouragement of a pack of 12th graders who also rode their bus, he'd kissed her on the lips. That day, after arriving home and vigorously scrubbing her lips over the sink, the truth had somehow sprung clear in her head. Little Timmy had given her such a hard time for one reason and one reason alone. Who'd have guessed a kiss is what he truly wanted?

Vegeta, who also looked startled, a very rare occurrence in itself, had gone speechless, like he had been caught of guard, or like he was weary she might be flirting with some dangerous thought he'd rather she didn't have. That look, that same look she was giving him, he had seen before. After the battle with Frieza, on that forest clearing, a diadem in her head and a stupid yellow and black suit hugging her body. It was her, Bulma, the girl from Namek, taking notice of him for the first time, fixing him with an unnerving blue stare that changed his life forever. And he, leaning on that tree, resisting the urge to let her gaze go… giving her a glimpse of his true self, promising without words he'd be very bad should she take him in. It was Bulma deciding she wanted to fuck with him.

His mouth became a thinly compressed line, before he averted his eyes and uttered a rather uppity, "hn".

"Hn?" She repeated, water making the sound a little broken. "Tell me you want me and get it over with." She stated matter-of-factly. To her utter surprise, he remained silent, brooding and grating his teeth, not blowing up in a profusion of expletives like she thought he would.

"That you really…really like me…" She toyed, allowing a crooked smile on her face and smoothing her hands down her bare wet thighs. "…because I am pretty…no… because I am BEAUTIFUL and you've never seen a girl as beautiful as me. Because you like my blue hair, and my blue eyes, and the color of my skin and how red my lips are. Because every time you see me, I drive you crazy. You miss doing me nastily, and I give you something no one else will. I feed your sickly fantasies." She teased, eyes narrowing while she bit down on her lip tauntingly. "And I am the one perfect slave."

"Get out of there." He snapped, moving forward to grab her forearm and force her away from the streams.

"No!" She squealed, laughing with mirthful abandon and yanking her arm back so he was forced to step into the free-flowing spurts of water himself. "No. Leave me alone, you Prince of Assholes!!"

Okay, the little minx had officially gone mad. "What is YOUR problem!" He roared back. "You have no measure of propriety, no idea how to act, nothing I should want or need!" She huffed and puffed, attempting to free her arm in a pathetic display that paled in relation to his splendid power. He could have dragged her away with ease, but something impeded it, something rooted him there, to the middle of the water display.

"Who the hell cares" She howled in half-deranged amusement. "You like it vulgar anyway. Say you like me, and you want to be with me and wanna love me all night long and I'll be your mistress tonight." She belted out with amusement, struggling as he spun her around like a doll. Not much else could she do when he pressed her back to him, under the upside down shower that had gotten him all wet. "Shutt uppp…" He grated in alarm, mindful of any onlookers.

"No I won't. I am improper that wayffmmm" She managed to get out before he slapped a hand over her mouth and muffled out her cackles. Without even thinking, she bit a finger as hard as she could, sending him screaming in outrage and making him release her at once. "Bad move." She extended her neck to slap the words triumphantly in his face before attempting to flee the scene.

"You are going to be sorry for this." He growled striding in her direction with hell-bent eyes. Bulma yelped and hastened her step but, not surprisingly, didn't make it far. She instead found her back glued to a hard wet chest again, a strong hand slithering up to curl over her throat. She lifted her chin, stretching her throat and fluttering her eyelids at the dangerous sensation. Need spread through her veins like a narcotic. "Come on" She breathed profoundly, her chest heaving with every word. "Fulfill your promise. Fuck me and kill me already..." It scared her how eagerly she pronounced the words, almost like her own lust for blood had blinded her senses. "…it's all a matter of time anyway."

"No." Came a grave response, firmly stated against her damp cheek, branded in that hoarse way that so belonged to him. "You have no say in this." He twirled her around until she was facing him, and at that moment, she honestly believed he'd never looked better, wet and dripping but fully clothed, beads of water caressing the august planes of his handsome face until they reached his lips and chin. She needed to chalk up this sudden weakness to the hunger, to protect her already flaking sense of control by telling herself sweet little lies.

"What will you do with me then?" She asked pleadingly, needing to surrender in his arms and still not being able to.

"I can sense that hunger. Even slaves need to eat." Is all he said, smiling slyly down at her, like a cat happy to play with a mouse before the time came to devour it.

--------------------------

This truly was hell, she decided. And all those stories about it being a blazing inferno populated by monstrous creatures and furnished with instruments of torture seemed like old maid talk in comparison to reality. They had arrived on a wide lounge enfolded in a penumbra, couples dancing to pulsating tunes that allowed them to move suggestively into one another, almost going through with their carnal impulses in view of the others. Girls as beautiful as those she'd encountered before, ubiquitous. Each one more enthralling, dressed how she had always been taught a woman should only dress in private, genuine and young and ripe for the taking. Bulma eyed the sultry couples disbelievingly as she trailed behind Vegeta who was currently making his way to a private area. That's what he'd said he'd do, take her to the far end and feed her, like she was his little pet or something. Not a very flattering thought, especially while the females present looked so modelesque.

The far walls were divided into ample areas where others feasted and lounged over lush carpets and enormous cushions. Their own place proved equally inviting, she observed, as Vegeta pulled the drapes open, a center round platform offering a curious display of food that sent saliva rushing to the confines of her cottony mouth. And she felt tempted to sink into the velvety cushions and stuff her face like a troglodyte, but before they could do anything a scantily clad waitress approached them from the back.

She slipped Vegeta a key surreptitiously and without a single word left them. "What was that?" Bulma questioned with unhindered curiosity, but he only sent her a malicious look. "Something a good Chikyuu-jin girl shouldn't know about. Now eat before you end up fainting on me. I am not in the mood to carry you like a sack over my shoulder." He nodded towards the food before descending to the floor and crossing his legs on the soft thick carpet with remarkable grace. She quickly followed, eagerly anticipating what was to come even if she didn't have the slightest idea on the provenance of the heavenly smelling concoctions.

It was obvious the bite sized pieces were supposed to be eaten with the hands, and so she dug in, stuffing her face unflatteringly. "Woman, take it easy or you'll end up throwing up and oh damn great, we're back to cero." He commented, scooping up a tiny roll that seemed to be stuffed with some sort of meat.

Bulma moaned joyously, the sound coming out like a growl as she licked her fingers in delight. "You know, ordinarily I am rather persnickety about food? I am totally against mystery meats and the likes, but this… whoa, nelly." She shuddered in pleasure, closed her eyes and crammed three portions at once.

"Persnickety? You don't say." He grunted. "In any case, I'll do you a favor and avoid the token epicurean explanations. They tend to be boring anyway."

Bulma grinned in mock indignation and elbowed him before leaning down to grab a couple of delicate tartines. "Don't say that. I am sure you loved my explanations on the origin of the name Hamburger and the history of French fries nearly as much as you enjoyed actually eating them. And you DID like hamburgers, EVEN if they made you look unrefined. You probably also miss milkshakes." She emphasized with a fresh, authentic smile. Something twitched inside her chest when she saw his upper lip curl in amusement, a tiny glimmer that may have signaled he was actually enjoying himself.

An indefinite number of minutes transpired in mindless chatter, something reminiscent of those days back home when they'd been left alone to explore each other unhindered, eating until they felt sick and loving their bodies until they were sore. They couldn't help but laugh at the stupid pair of hirelings back at the dealer's den, their brutish faces and even less privileged brains reminding Vegeta of a very close personal aide of his own.

"Nappa? Really? That why you ended up blasting him?" She quirked her lips, fighting back a chuckle.

"Nappa was such an ass-kisser anyway." He added with no regret and too much self-satisfaction. "And I'd get better conversations from a saibaman."

"Pffff" Bulma laughed, remembering the big burly warrior and kind of feeling more than a bit sorry for the overgrown nanny slash bodyguard. "Poor man. "

"Poor my ass. It couldn't stand any more kissing." He said, words dipping with cynicism.

"But the Saibamen were gross Vegeta. Where did you get those hideous little creatures that looked like living breathing cabbages from hell?"

"Hn. Where do you think?" He said, licking a finger and giving her a hint that the trio back there may have had something to do with the gruesome acquisitions. "There was a time when they were easily acquired, but lately they had to be bought on the black market."

She lingered on him for a bit, a tiny snort escaping her. "Ah. Yes. Mr. Guls and his pair of dumb brutes. What kind of name is Moog anyway"

"Oh I don't know. What kind of name is Bulma?" He lifted an eyebrow her way, letting his pupils roll down south until they reached her nether regions. So he'd made the connection huh… how much the word sounded like… she blushed, yeah, like bloomer.

"Vegeta? Seriously?" She interjected.

"Yeah, yeah… I've heard them all." He rolled his eyes and twitched a cheek before popping another portion of something particularly inviting into his mouth. "You aren't coming up with anything I haven't heard before."

"Well, I bet you haven't come across this one…" She started, before uncrossing her already numb legs and throwing them carelessly against his now also stretched out limb. He'd long moved to a different position, one arm perched over a slightly bent leg, allowing a distracting thought into her mind. If only that Kaltan weren't covering the family jewels, she was sure she'd get a very good hint of them thanks to the skintight pants he was wearing. IF only he wasn't wearing it, that is…

She let her eyes repose on the apex of his thighs. "Shouldn't you take your drape off? It's soaked. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be." A corner of Vegeta's lips twisted up, a hand reaching out to hold her chin and tilt it up. "Say what you were going to say and I'll consider taking it off." He offered.

Bulma blushed, now strangely uncertain if she should comply. Truth was the man, didn't need any more ammunition to enhance his already enormous ego. "You don't deserve what I was going to say." She whispered with utmost candor, a delicate hand coming up to rest on his wrist.

"Okay, what say you I give you something more then? And it's got to do with what that waitress gave me a while ago."

"You would?" Bulma bat her eyelashes with poorly hidden excitement, plump cherry lips curving slightly.

"Just a taste, no more." He husked, a thumb brushing across the sensitive skin just below her lower lip.

She let out a breath, eyes glancing sideways before returning to his. "Ok. I was going to say… I actually always thought your name was very nice. There, now don't let that little fact make your head explode, please. It would ruin my clothes and I actually like them very much." He looked at her upturned face with an unreadable expression, perhaps trying to asses the veracity of her statement.

"Why?" He simply asked.

"Why? What do you mean why?" She quipped trying to avoid elaborating on the issue, but when his hard eyes remained fastened on hers, she decided she was well cornered. "Alright. I…" A very heavy sigh followed "I suppose it does sound like indeed the name of a Prince, and male names that end with an "_**a"**_ have always caught my attention, that's all." She had barely finished the sentence when a lopsided grin had already spread over his tanned complexion, visibly relaxing it.

He then released her chin and retrieved the mystery key to unlock a thin drawer on the platform, one she hadn't actually noticed before. From there he produced a silver case. He carefully opened it and there, in a neat array, rested irregular small portions of something white and dusty looking. A pungent aroma filled the space with clear cut intensity, something she couldn't really pinpoint. She inhaled profoundly, finally discerning the notes of wet dirt, musk and flowers. "What is this?" She asked in bewilderment.

"Ixian truffles." He announced, lifting a delicacy between his thumb and his forefinger with evident appreciation. "Worth an obscene amount of Crystallite there's no point in discussing." Vegeta held one out to her, before reaching down and grabbing another one for himself. "It's said they derive their strange properties from the beds of raw crystallite they grow among in the shallower waters of this country."

Bulma had had truffles before, as any other socialite in her circle had during those long elaborate dinners she wasn't too fond of, the kind of social function that ran rampant with high cuisine and banal conversation. She knew the smell, remembered the heavy mushroomy taste as it melted on her palate, but somehow, she just knew this was on a whole another level.

One quick glance at the powdery tuber, and she couldn't resist biting down on it. And oh, it was sweet and sour, salty and bitter, one contrasting taste after the other, like eating a ripe rose in full bloom drenched in wine. It rushed through her synapses, firing them until they sizzled, every little taste bud in her tongue singing sonnets, her soul widening until it threatened to burst. But it was the end that was truly captivating. It manifested itself in the form of a gathering heat between her thighs, her groins breaking into a sweat as the wave hit them. She set unfocused eyes on him as she swallowed down the last bit, almost regretting it, except the journey she was on was unrelenting. It quickened her pulse, made her eyelids heavy and every pore inflamed.

"Vegeta?" She managed to breath, bracing fastening a hand on the edge of the round little platform before them in shameful disbelief. It was like an eruption of sorts, and it was coming no matter what. She couldn't have stopped it if she wanted and it crashed mercilessly over her. The sexual climax made her entire frame shudder, eyes seeking the ceiling before crossing briefly, breath coming out in plentiful gasps. Her whimper was broken, thighs clenching and unclenching as pleasure sunk its fangs on her.

A wicked bout of male laughter filtered through to her senses, the sound coming from him as he enjoyed the view. "Remember that thing called chocolate you have in Chikyuu?" Followed his velvety voice, awakening her from the fury of her own body's passion. The world became clear again as hazy blue eyes met black ones. "How proud you are of it and how many attributes you attach to it?" He placed a truffle in his mouth and chewed placidly, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed it entirely. "Well, let's just say it's really not a big deal after you've actually eaten an orgasm."

Bulma, who was still trying to regain her breath, looked at him attentively, searching for traces that he was about to undergo the same enrapturing experience she had, but nothing happened. He just smiled lopsidedly in contentment, a rare occurrence in that face that was drawn into a permanent scowl.

"Why isn't it giving you any…?"

"Don't be silly, you weakling." He cut in. "It happened only once with me. The weaker your organism the more potent the reaction and the more frequent. It's still more than enjoyable, if you know what I mean, but I can easily control my body." He angled closer to her, burying a hand among cushions to brace his weight. "I should have expected such a quick reaction with you though. It traveled through you like a lighting. Let's just say you are much easier."

Bulma's cheeks were already burning but they flared like torches at the insinuation. "Go fuck yourself Vegeta because it sure is all you are getting tonight." She muttered in his face, moving to kneel down and perhaps get up and leave. Upon a quick analysis of the truth though, she truly didn't have anywhere to escape to, so what did she think she was doing?

He leaned on the pile of cushions that rested against the leather upholstered wall behind him. "Don't be ridiculous. You think I did that on purpose?" His voice was derisive, an offended tone firmly etched on it. "Why don't you have a cup of poison you stupid little Chikyuu-jin prude. It looks like you need one badly."

Bulma gaped, placing her arms akimbo and nearly turning purple with rage. "Well, why don't YOU have some poison yourself? I thought you had more honor than that. What, all of a sudden you are too good to kill me yourself? You'd rather see me die by ingesting poison?" Alright, was she actually scolding him for not promising to kill her with his own hands? She really was loosing it.

"Poison, you ignorant little fool, is that thing in that crystal bottle there." He nodded at the carafe on the platform before them. "And I can assure you it isn't the kind of poison you are thinking of. It's just the name given to the local liquor." He grabbed a small chalice and poured a serving on it, swirling it around before downing it at once. "On second thought, you are probably going to say I am trying to corrupt you, so why don't you just sit there and shut up for the rest of the evening."

"Give me that, you bastard." She snapped back, snatching the bottle and the chalice from his hands and pouring herself one serving. She tilted her head back and did away with the crystal clear beverage. She shook heavily next, trembling as the smooth liquid bolted through every limbs at once, setting them on fire. "Ow, ow, shiiiiiit!" She screeched.

Vegeta gave her a guttural chuckle. "Why are you so careless, girl? There's no telling what this can do to your feeble system. If I were you I'd leave it alone." He grabbed the chalice and decanted some more alcohol for his own enjoyment. It was gone almost as quickly as it was served, and Bulma begun understanding just what made the clear liquid, with its refined purity, so different than anything she'd experienced before. It made her feel both hot and cold inside, ice and fire melting together, as if that was even possible. Now every little hair in her skin was standing and the sensation was so goooood… Vegeta searched in the depths of that same drawer and came up with a long slim black cigar, one he immediately lit up with a flicker of his own ki. He blew the smoke in her face indolently.

"So bitch, how do you like it?" He stated, acquiring a very leisurely posture that made him look infinitely unbreakable. "Is it too much for you?"

Bulma for some reason, was only getting more and more worked up, that cocky smirk of a devil growing more irritating by the second. "Honestly, who do you think you are talking to Vegeta?" She retorted, grinning wolfishly. "Pass it…" She delicately grabbed his cigarette and pulled it from between his lips to lick the end briefly and then place it on her own. She inhaled fully and then almost immediately regretted it as the fragrant smoke came out in heavy girly coughs. Bulma grimaced and waved away, now aware these were also not just ordinary cigarettes. She was a consummate smoker and still, somehow they posed another challenge. Nevertheless, she took a second drag, this time managing it carefully and allowing herself to savor the flavors hidden in the remarkable stick.

"God, this is good." She commented uttering a moan and expelling the smoke away slowly. "Sinfully good." He seemed amused at her audacity, transfixed in her actions and the small competition between them.

"Sinfully good?" Vegeta grabbed the buckle in his Kaltan, pushing something behind it and causing the drape to unwind from around him and disappear into a tiny compartment behind the metal. "I had forgotten I did promise I'd take this off." He added, his voice acquiring a graver sound due to the smoking and the drinking. He placed the piece engraved with the royal insignia of his clan on the platform's drawer before collecting a little tube that had sprung free behind the drape.

Bulma smiled to herself, raking her eyes down the lean body lounging before her, the soft mounds, and valleys hugged by the dark clothes. Why was she always mesmerized by the narrow waist and the thick thighs? And why was she sporting such a silly grin? Dammit the poison was getting to her.

He flipped the tube open and tapped it against the edge of the chalice after having poured a serving of the transparent liquor first. He swirled the red powder around with expertise, and the beverage became like blood. He then brought it to his nose and drank it with leisure. "THIS is sinfully good." And it truly was, but it was way too dangerous to be given to a creature such as her. It sharpened the senses disproportionately, especially when mixed with incense smoke. The combination was explosive, and if it was so to him, he could only imagine what it'd do to her.

When he caught her fascinated, he sent her a dark glower. "Don't even go there Bulma. I mean it." He warned with gravity that was unusual even for him. "Red poison isn't child's game."

"I am not a child, you can attest to that. I am more like a fallen angel am I not? And if I am going to fall, I'd rather fall well. So give me some, even if it kills me." She slurred the words, dragging her knees until she was as close to him as possible. Delicate palms run up the surface of his torso, enjoying both the hardness and the pliancy of the muscles until her hands rested on his broad shoulders. "And I am with you anyway, so what is there to happen?" That was the damn problem, couldn't she see it? She was with him, and he really wasn't model of innocence. Not at all.

But the Mortal Kiss was truly godly, and he was just dying to do it with her. He'd done it with others who weren't even fit to kiss the soles of her shoes. Why not her?

Vegeta let go of any inhibitions, grabbing the chalice and pouring it full with poison. She then watched as he brought the tiny tube to his lips and shook it so the red powder fell raw on his mouth. He then smirked and nodded in the direction of the incense cigarette she was still holding, giving her a cue she didn't miss. Bulma took a drag on it and held the poison in, just as he threw his head back to gather alcohol in his mouth.

And then… drug, alcohol and smoke all mixed together in a positively decadent bomb of a kiss that could have been called epic. It had earned its name for a reason, said to have caused death to plenty, but then those were only legends, the kind of thing parents say to scare their children into rectitude.

They savored every single flavor their mouth had to offer, jaws moving up and down in deep intoxication. Bulma saw fireworks behind her lids, Vegeta's pulse quickened while the mighty endorphins flooded his Saiyan brain dangerously.

"Again…" She breathed, licking her lips and brushing the words against his own. When had she moved to straddle him? Vegeta bent his legs, helping her sink into him more, her smooth bare thighs pressing on him softly and making him break into a sweat. It was her turn now to shake contents of the tube into her mouth and sip on that icy hot fluid while he sucked on the cig with expertise. And so they did it again, this time making it slower so not a second was wasted, the alcohol's tannins blending along with the red powder to produce a chain reaction that couldn't be broken.

Life was lyrical and sweet. It was a vast wonderland of sin that couldn't be any prettier. Eternity was nothing other than a kiss and even if it death was a possibility, it was death itself that was tempting. She thought she could remain this way forever, her mind demanding she impaled herself on him until she bled, insisting nothing remained between them relevant enough to hinder her. In fact, doing so sounded like a plan, hence her long fingernails dug into the back of his neck, asking him to fill her up with all he got.

"How can people do this and not just start fucking…" She laughed, drawling out the words and rubbing her entire body against him. Her arms curled behind him so her hands could sink in his hair. This way there was no question she'd be able to climax endlessly throughout the night, almost as many times as bad erotica claimed a woman could. You know, in that kind of story where the protagonist comes one time after the other with no effort whatsoever until it's almost overkill. Well, tonight may just end up being like that.

"That's enough." He reprimanded, half stoned and amidst indecent touching on both their parts. He knew a couple more drinks could send him into a black endless vortex. "You don't need any more of this shit." The tube landed far away as he rolled it in a wayward direction.

Bulma, patted around the plush carpet, attempting to find the source of the pretty orgasmic bubbles popping in her brain. "Don't throw it away…" She complained, and as she searched, she accidentally brushed a curtain open. What she saw made her quickly forget about the beautiful red powder of joy. There, on the next space a couple was engaged in good old missionary style, a sweaty tangle of bodies that consisted of repetitive thrusts that tore open a rather eager recipient.

She remained paralyzed, gaping as man and woman went at it with that kind of abandonment that was only easily achieved through self-pleasuring. They were using each other to get off like the other was nothing but an object, true need drenching and reddening their skins.

Bulma felt a strong arm pull her back, curtain falling into place. "The neighbors are doing it." She whispered.

"Yeah, and we'd better get out." He muttered, a certain fear of losing control settling in his gut, but then, before he could follow that thought a hand curled around his neck to push him forward and drink from his lips. He was highly aroused himself, big evidence of it behind his pants, so why, thought Bulma, would he push her away? Why not take her tonight?

She was too concentrated on his mouth and didn't even realize it before she found herself laying back on the carpet, his weight on top of her deliciously right. Her body arched against his, desperate to be set free, almost crying for him to just rip the barriers away and ram into her until she passed out.

She rolled over so she was on top, dry rubbing on him, seeing him openly wrestle with merciless bouts of desire. Being in public was surely past the point now, seeing as others around were doing it, sweet intoxicated murmurs rushing to her ears.

She kept moving over him, need pressing against need and breathing intensifying. This was it. She wanted it right here, right now, Chikyuu be damned, and anyone else for that matter. Vegeta grabbed her hair from behind in a tight fist, eyes tracing a path that led to her breasts. It reminded him of that night so long ago, when he'd battled this same desire, to have her or not to have her? To abandon control and walk down that lane or desist while he could… but that night he'd given in, and he'd regret sinking into her depths many months later. This girl was bad for him. She would be the end of him. She was killing him.

"Stop." He grated, perching his weight on his forearms. "That's enough." A hand cupped her skull and pulled her forward. "You are fucking stoned, little one. You are going to regret this tomorrow, and so will I."

She smiled down, her palms on either side of him on the cushiony surface. "Stop? But that doesn't make any sense." She frowned, gliding an eager palm down his taut waist, until it rested over his pants. That's when she caught the sensation of something in his front pocket. Bulma's brows sunk lower as she snuck her fingers inside to retrieve some card, not his transact card, but another type of card, with a code and a name on it. Even through her mind's haze she could see the name was female, a sudden realization clearing up her thoughts as it struck full force.

"Who is this." She asked, almost dreading the answer, heart suddenly pounding restlessly behind her ribcage. Vegeta, sat up, snatching the card back and slapping it on the carpet. "That's really none of your business." He grunted.

Memories of that blonde girl back on the bar, the one with the big chest and heavenly smile crashed into her with jarring intensity. "She gave you this. That girl back there, with the ponytails." Bulma said with remarkable lucidity, the words spoken almost to herself. "Of course. That's what she approached you for. That's it isn't it?" Her face had fallen apart, and she was sure she was melting inside out. She scrambled back and away until she hit the end of the platform. "Was she a prostitute?" She asked in urgency, hating that she was so close to doing what she felt like doing, because something was burning behind her eyes, and she sure hated doing that particular thing.

"Do you honestly think I owe you any explanations?" He asked, glowering at her with fire in his eyes and a deeply troubled expression.

Yes she was then. She was a whore. "Oh god, Vegeta…" She breathed. "Have I told you how much I hate you?" She finished, grabbing the infamous card and throwing it his way. The world, once so endlessly endowed with unending beauty and bountiful pleasure had morphed into a cold barren place of death. She struggled to her feet, nearly tumbling before spinning around and storming away. She was fully conscious she had no place to go, because she didn't belong here and home was light years away, but she couldn't care any less. This lonely sensation she'd experienced before, but never with such intensity… her chest hurt, physically hurt, like someone was tearing her soul apart and bringing her down to ruins. And although she didn't fully understand what was happening to her, she did understand something: that this is what dying inside probably felt like.

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AN: I told him many things I would tell him in my deepest dreams. All you guys who review… you mean the world.

All my love,

Caprice


	19. Talk of the Heart

**Disclaimer: **I own the man okay. Geez, sue me already. I'm kidding people, back off.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 19**

Step 20 – Talk of the Heart

"_Me__n I've had a few  
but they wouldn't quite blow me like you  
you gave me your name and signed  
with a halo around my eye…_

…_True love is cruel love…"_

A high pitched sound punctured her brain like a needle, preceded by echoes of her own ragged breathing. The haunting tunes that permeated the hall were now lost in her frantic desperation to get away, eyes restless, searching for an escape. She trudged her way to the nearest exit, on weak knees and a belly that swirled with the ardent punishment of nausea, the cracks through which the light seeped proclaiming air, life and a reservoir of badly needed oxygen. To her it was like clambering her way from the depths of hell in her last attempt at salvation.

Time became sluggish, people bumping into her as she reached for the doorway like an agonizing patient. Perhaps it was the drugs, perhaps the mental burden, but truth is her body felt leaden, brick-heavy… and she swore she could feel the nimble hands of demons as they coiled around her limbs to drag her back down. She grabbed her head that had become like a spinning top, thankful when she stepped into the crisp serenity of the night and the breeze worked its magic. The desire to vomit was temporarily allayed.

She strode aimlessly down a desolate bridge, feeling half-blind and half-dead, and wounded mortally inside. And still no tears came, nothing but black rancor boiling and festering inside her stomach.

She was vaguely aware of her hasty retreat, legs moving out of their own volition to place as much distance as possible between her and her torment. Even through the haze of her thoughts, she could feel the rush of the wind as it blew bangs out of her face. She moved swiftly but then her legs faltered and the lights before her skidded to a blur as she fell headlong, scraping a knee and a forearm on the hewn surface of the concrete. Tapping unto her last remnant of strength, she managed to pick herself up, deciding to ignore the stinging place where her silken skin had torn. Ruby pearls marred the immaculate surface with their angry color and painted trails down her arm, but still her face remained firmly set in a feral contortion.

Her aim was the edge of the bridge as she howled brokenly; drugs, alcohol and alien nicotine melting her neurons, and a sense of loss twisting her inside. Bulma Briefs was nothing. She was a minuscule star twinkling in a sea of refulgent masses. She was not powerful, not a beauty, not a goddess and damn the day she thought she could conquer the universe and change the way it spun. Damn her silly superiority complex, and curse that God forsaken day he'd crashed on earth and changed her life forever.

How dare he sleep with a whore while she was still being held as his slave? How dare he feed others what should be fed to her and her alone? Just as he was her torturer, she was his victim, and that was the one true bond she thought exclusive. Disturbing thoughts poisoned her mind as she reached a gruesome conclusion. Had the other woman crossed paths with her that moment, she was nearly sure she would have sunk to the lowest tier possible. She felt like murdering.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, she felt her knees give way once again and she reached for the waist-high barrier of the bridge in earnest. Her eyes rolled back behind shut eyelids and a weak exhalation left her lips as she descended to the floor in what felt like slow motion.

But no thud was heard, no contact with the ground made. A strong arm appeared from nowhere and circled her waist to hoist her up, pressing her into a powerfully built body. She instinctively began to fight her way out of his grip, spasming and squirming violently until she broke free from the cage of his arms.

"Where do you think you're going?" He demanded, battling down the stupor of the red poison trip with the ability of an expert. He prided himself in his control and the way he was able to retain the grace of his gait even through the power of intoxicants, even tonight when he thought he might have overdone it. He wasn't quite sure why he'd indulged so much. Perhaps it was to undermine the unsettling effect the Chikyuu-jin girl had on him and to force himself into the slutty motherfucker he used to be. Sleeping with another woman was his desperate statement to himself that he didn't need this blue-haired bitch. It was the proof he needed that he wasn't insanely addicted to her. So why was he chasing her now? Who cared what she thought or felt after her little discovery? But still, something warred within his chest and compelled him to follow. It was maddening him that the blue eyes that often looked at him with hot-white fire had suddenly looked so dim, reminding him of the eyes of so many of his victims. The angel that he'd wanted to break in order to save his sanity and secure his autonomy had become another cripple from the endless wars that afflicted him.

"Bulma." He called in a solid voice that rang across the bridge. He stepped behind her and twisted her arm so she was forced to look at him.

Her body was heaving; eyes rimmed red with the fury of hatred as she screamed at him raucously. "I have nothing to say to you, or do you think I owe you any explanations?" She echoed the words that had been spoken to her only minutes before, the hidden accusations not lost to him. They were screeched with a mind-numbing volume. Ah, she was positively furious, every little sizzling thing she felt for him brought into the open by the power of the stimulants.

"You have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Do you wish to end up gang-raped and beaten up on a dark filthy alleyway?" He argued, jerking her body to wake her up from the rage that was blinding her senses. This was his prey and he wanted her confined. She wouldn't slip from his grasp like water, no, she wouldn't break free like a bird abandoning her jailer. She was his.

Bulma tried to shove him away with all she got, wrestling in his grip with fierce determination. "Gang-raped, killed… it sounds like a better fate than being chained to you. You are sick and twisted, Vegeta and I just can't be another one of your 'women'. I am leaving you tonight, for once and for all, and I don't give a damn what happens to me. I won't let you do this to me, and you can be sure I will NOT surrender to you like a love-struck teenager so you can use me at your will. Do you think I want to bear children to a depraved fuck like you so you can keep on murdering entire worlds and expand your shroud of evil over the galaxy?"

The wind played with the lanky threads of hair that framed her face as she battled him. Her pallor was almost ghostly under the Ixian moons and it was suddenly clear to him why he had run after her so vehemently. No matter how many bitches he slept with tonight, he would always be fucking her in his mind. This wasn't just lust. It had the potency of thunder and the brightness of lighting. It was positively wrong and then perfectly right at the same time. She was the one thing he craved the moment he woke and the single high of his torturous days. The one thing he never knew he wanted. Gods… was it possible… that he? That a grotty bastard like he could feel... the one thing he vowed he'd never feel for anybody. "That would be a much better fate than a single more day with you." She finished, yanking her arm back unsuccessfully.

Vegeta cupped her skull and forced her gaze up to meet his. The black irises were glowing in the dark like the eyes of a wolf, making him look like a beast. They bored into hers with all their power, leaving her breath taken. "What is your real problem? Does it bother you that much that I would halt your advances so I could sleep with someone else? If that's the case, why don't you just come out flat and say it?"

So it was real then. He had intended to bin her away so he could partake in God knew what with some other woman, and to Bulma's worse misfortune, that other woman was a total beauty. Her fertile imagination hounded her with images of what he probably lent himself to during his sojourns here. Did he stop at one or did he like group action? Because there was no question the man would have no problem taking three at once and working them with equal vigor. Liquid rushed forth to blur her vision and sting her eyes like acid, but remained contained between her eyelids as she pushed him away once more. "Were you really thinking of fucking her tonight?" She spoke through gritted teeth, eyes restless, voice half-cracked. "Were you?" Her pupils darted left to right, trying to read into that blazing look he was leveling her with.

When his scowl only deepened and his lips pressed together, her mouth sagged and her eyes widened. "You were. You were, you were… you… were." Bulma started hitting him as hard as possible, every blow punctuating her words as they came. She couldn't muster much strength but still gave it her all, every blow truly meant to hurt him. The punches rained upon his chest and his shoulders, interspersed with slaps to that dark regal face that she so despised right now. The murderous feeling from a few minutes ago was fully revived and now aimed at him and him alone, fostering a very crooked idea. If anyone were to actually kill him they'd be freeing the universe of a devastating force. AND assuring their place in hell, she sourly concluded, but anyhow, perhaps that's where she belonged if she was so overtaken with such a sadistic bastard.

When he realized she wouldn't stop until she demolished her own fists, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms and pressing his temple to hers. His own breathing was irregular when he spoke, the poison that still rolled freely through his synapses heightening every sensation and his private monster feeding of her rage like a leech. Perhaps this is what he liked the most about her, that she could make him feel so alive. Blood rumbled in his veins full strength when he'd often thought he was already dead. She had managed to resurrect him from the dead, raise him from a tomb were he'd lain years upon years, numb and broken. But such robust life and such pristine light was jarring to a creature of the night such as him.

This he felt for her, what he'd often thought was only stuff of legends, was simply unacceptable. The crown Prince of Vegeta-sei, slain inside by a puny little girl and made infinitely weaker then he thought he'd ever be. While others were off, basking in the glory of Super Saiyan power, he was harboring nauseating feelings for a mere subordinate, things he couldn't even bring himself to say. It had to stop, and he was going to put an end to it tonight. He didn't need a liability and she'd become just that. Finishing her off would be the number one way to vindicate his reputation.

"Yes I was thinking about it. I was going to fuck that girl until the break of dawn and I was going to do so mercilessly. At least that was what I intended to do, but you, you puny little creature, you're doing strange things to me. Because I'm here, with you, wasting my time instead of being myself. Or have you forgotten who I really am Bulma?" His grip on her upper arms intensified as he spoke against her hair, his arms strong and unyielding. He somehow knew every word would wound her like a dagger, and still he wouldn't stop. It just wasn't in his nature to gloss over the awful truth or shield her from the demons that accursed him. She'd lived a sheltered life, surrounded by pompous, self-righteous hypocrites all her life, ensconced in lace and riding ponies as a child. Well, the world wasn't such a pretty place and she'd better begin to believe that.

"In case you can't bring yourself to say it, I will say it for you, girl. I am not one of your decorous little Chikyuu-jin friends who've lived an uncorrupted life, training to compete in childish tournaments and picnicking during the weekends. I've been a mercenary, and believe me, I've slept with many a whore. And just in case you were wondering, YES, I have slept with more than one at once and done despicable things to them during. I'd keep it to a minimum when I was on duty, stationed on a war base or aboard the flag ship, but the few times I was given furlough I'd binge on everything I was normally deprived of. Can you wrap your pretty head around that?"

Bulma was struggling in his grasp, clenching her eyes shut and battling the bile that rushed to her throat and soured her mouth. "You, so chaste and pure, perched on your throne of holiness, that have never known what it's like to have no place to call home or to feed off corpses for fear of hunger, are going to argue about it with me?" His speech was virulent, eyes blazing with that power that she knew lived inside him and burst like a supernova when he angered. "Do you think you have a right to do so?"

Bulma was gasping now, as if the ozone in his energized aura was sucking the life out of her. "Do you?" He added more forcefully, mouths almost touching and the space between crackling with electrified tension. Then he repeated the same question he'd uttered back in that lounge, and this time something stirred and tore inside her, rendering her mute. "Do you honestly think I owe you any explanations?"

And the truth is he didn't.

When that blinding realization hit her, she lent into him, terribly aware how sick she was about to be and how defenseless she was against it all.

"Tell me what the difference is between this and what you wanted to do that night I took you from Chikyuu, when you kissed your boyfriend, in the balcony." Bulma, even through the whirl of her head and the weakness of her bones, attempted to retreat, uttering a shaky "No" that wasn't lost to him. He grabbed her chin painfully and looked at her with twin pinpoints of passion. "You thought I wasn't looking, didn't you? Not only was I looking, I was also SMELLING." Something inside his chest snapped and short-circuited, his throat constricting with a maddening feeling that was eating away at his sanity. "I smelled you from the distance and you reeked of lust. YOU were going to fuck him and don't you dare say you wouldn't because the stench could have made me vomit. It travelled to me like spores in the wind and they spoke a single message: that you don't care if it's me or him or whoever. All you want is to spread your legs and have a good ride."

"V-V-egeta" She became frightened, lost in his accusatory gaze. It was hard to swallow and painful to breath as her body stood tremulous. He looked at her ruthlessly, hurting her, physically hurting her as he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her so the motion rattled her brain. "I should have made sure to pay you well when I had you, just like I do a prostitute… How much are you worth, hm? Give me a number. How much does a good lay with you cost?" Tears finally broke free from the confines of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks in languid, silvery trails. Her eyes and her nose reddened and she clawed at his shoulders, desperately hoping she wouldn't just fade to black any moment. "I should pay you right now and throw you away afterwards, let you go and never turn back. And I assure you, by all the Gods, I swear I'd do whatever it takes to stay away."

"I-I…" She stammered, fearful her stomach would rebel any minute now. Her blood pressure was lowering, her face now ashen and her skin cold and damp. "You left me. I thought you weren't coming back." Came a small whisper. That rare moment she managed to gather a measure of courage. She sought something indefinite in his face before carrying on. "Do you want to know the truth? The truth is it was you I was thinking of and I despised myself every second I did. It was your eyes, your face, your lips… all I could remember. Your arms around me, your hands all over me…" Bulma curled fingers around his wrist as he held her jaw in place, fingers infinitely weak against such power. Her face looked almost theatrical now, black trails ramifying over pearly cheeks and eyes that gleamed like dark blue oceans. "Vegeta, I am too weak right now. I can't stand anymore." She complained, knowing the chemicals were wreaking havoc on her system and threatening to collapse it. How could they provide such wondrous highs and such a cruel downfall…

He was bearing almost her entire weight now and she was infinitely thankful. She felt she was receding into some black void. "Please…"

But he was lost in a trance, his thoughts colliding violently. Had he not appeared that night, would she have truly slept with someone else? It was the one somber notion that overtook him as he pressed her up and cupped her cheek, fingers digging into her pliant skin painfully. "Why is it I keep you alive…" He muttered to himself, grounding the words in his mouth like they were hard to pronounce. He thought terminating her without availing himself to her body one last time was too much of a pity, but then the executioner within, the one that needed her stronger than anything else, knew touching her again could probably mean his demise. What he felt for her… Gods, what he felt was unnamable. He needed her like oxygen and that was the most frightening feeling he'd ever experienced. The executioner needed to ensure his self preservation. It would be a pity yes, but the fine golden threads of pain and pleasure would hold them together forever, in this world and the next.

He tangled his fingers through the long waves of her hair and pulled her closer. "I don't need you, pitiful slave." His voice scratched at her ears, paralyzing her, her heart straining to keep beating under the weight of her emotions. "But you…YOU need me too keep living. It is I who govern your every breath, I who says when you get to feel pain and get to feel pleasure. If I were to put an end to you right now, it would be my prerogative." He sniffed her neck, the scent of the blood that fluttered there wafting into his nose with coppery clarity. His tongue came out to slake the thirst of his lips, the very tip of it grazing across her pulse almost by accident. "You are going to give me what I want right now. And what I want is your life."

Bulma inhaled sharply, a sense of doom tensing her frame. Tears fell free like tiny diamonds, catching the light of the moon as they ambled down her face. "No… don't" Her voice was strangled.

"Yes… " He continued, as he cradled her in those arms that had provided her with a taste of heaven so many times. "And don't pretend you don't get high on it, because you do. You'd take that over me being with anyone else tonight. Every time I touch you, even if I were rough, you'd feel nothing but pleasure. You'd rather I tossed you around if it meant I was with you and not anyone else." She could feel him hardening against her and she had a vivid picture of her sanity leaping out a window and tumbling down to meet its demise. He was right, unfortunately so. She fed of his violence like some sordid creature. She was his in a way she couldn't be anyone else's. "Vegeta…" Bulma's eyes closed and his name came out like a defeated moan. "Will you kill me tonight?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps I will only punish you." Is what he said with a certain roughness to his voice. "Wouldn't you like that?" He continued, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind him across the extensive bridge that vaulted the oceans.

As she followed, she felt the tremor of death wrap its talons up her spine, and she knew this was no game. He could stay true to that notion and these may very well be the last steps she took in life. The worse part is she would have it no other way. She was his to do as he pleased. Some twisted desire was already beginning to grind its way into her womanly walls, contracting them in anticipation as she let herself be hastily dragged. Not that she had any other option but to let him take her away with him. Even though she was genuinely scared and her fingers were shaky, she still managed to forge a definite idea. It was either kill or be killed in this cruel, miserable world they lived in and the spirit she'd been born with propelled her to fight against all odds.

The universe compelled her to try and find a way to end his life before he took her own.

That was her one resolve as they strode through the streets of the alien world, her breath resounding in her ears harsh and persistent. If it came to that, then it came to that. To kill or be killed tonight.

"_---Y__ou haunt me with your violent heartbeat at night  
oh, you strike me with your silence baby, tonight  
why you haunt me with your violence baby… come hit me  
you haunt me with your violent heartbeat..."_

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AN: I gotta take this chance to thank starrz35 who's reviewed a hell of a lot lately. Dammit girl, you rock my socks. To Susie: my apologies for not answering your fantabulous review. "_Mil Gracias por tus palabras_ ;)". To everyone else, as usual, you make this world a better place.

Note: The lyrics in this chapter come from the song "And then you kissed me" by The Cardigans. I know I have mentioned music before, but this song is truly gorgeous and it speaks volumes of the relationship between Bulma and Vegeta. I would STRONGLY suggest you listen to it so you get a vibe of what I am trying to say / do with them. It inspired me through a lot of this chapter and it's full of some very powerful metaphors.


	20. Private Angel

Disclaimer: The usual. I don't own the characters, but that truly is irrelevant, isn't it?

AN: Please, understand and be warned this chapter's highly erotic, the kind of thing you're probably not expecting. Words cannot express how much fun I had writing it. Available on Fanfiction (dot) net for a limited time?

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 20

Step 21 – Private Angel

She met the tiles of the bathchamber face first, palms flat against the coolness of the surface when she landed. He barely had to employ any force to toss her to the ground, and as she fell, she made sure she carried everything sitting atop the sink's cabinet with her. She wasn't glad to hear the rattling of the toiletries, even if scattering them had been her plan all along. This night stood as the ultimate test to her spirit and she was truly worried she'd fail.

Facts dictated she shouldn't feel what she felt for him; that she should in fact murder for the sake of mankind… hell, for the sake of the galaxy. He was evil incarnate, a beautiful deadly weapon that shouldn't be trusted to let live. Through the weight of his own trespasses he'd forgone a place in heaven and thus tonight, the souls of those he'd slain cried out from the abyss, demanding she did them justice. They relied on her womanly artifices to put their killer to rest and she was sure they were now watching through ghostly eyes. The gods would forgive her sin, she hoped, for in karmic balance it was she who carried over her the cross of the innocent. But wouldn't stealing his life mar her virgin hands? And had Kami truly spoken to her earlier today and issued a completely outlandish request?

_Recover what we thought was lost forever. Winter is merely a passageway to the flourishing of life._

Bulma swallowed down her nausea knowing she couldn't delay the inevitable. She was for sure going to retch. That fact fleeted through her mind as she eyed the handheld mirror that had fractured against the surface of the ground and slid to a halt behind the toilet's base.

With much effort, she raised her weight on quivery arms and vomited loudly on the round depths of the porcelain bowl, feeling like her stomach was going to come out her mouth any second and it would pull every other gut along with it. She coughed until her throat had gone raw, alcohol spurting out with the last dregs of strength that drained away simultaneously. When she finally hit a pedal to flush the contents she closed her eyes, uttered a shaky sigh and grabbing unto the edge.

Even half-slumped over the rim, and half-way between light and darkness, she could feel his presence behind her making her react. Her spine tingled and her self-preservation radar blared, shedding light on one simple fact. This wasn't just any stupid crush. This she felt for him was the pitch of never-ending passion. Love was the most incongruous way to explain this fire and so she didn't even subscribe to its clichéd, muddled up tenor. She'd find a grander word to describe it, she vowed, and she'd forge it from the memories of that rare side of him he never showed any other.

Her executioner was watching her, towering over her like a predatory animal eying a fawn, or so she felt as his boots came into her line of vision. He paced back and touched a knee to the floor behind her so he could breathe into her hair. "You can't do the things I do and not suffer the consequences, little one." His body irradiated heat from every pore and she ached to melt into him but decided she couldn't.

Issuing a shuddery inhalation, she slid a palm through the floor towards a triangular piece of mirror that had sprung free when the object crashed. The souls still cried, and their keening laments rung in her ears threatening to deafen her. It was their voice that made her close her fist over the makeshift dagger with enough force to cut her own satiny palm. So help her God.

Right this moment, she was the single most breathtaking vision he'd ever encountered. She appeared vulnerable and broken, slung over the rim like a china doll. For a flicker of a second he thought himself privileged, privileged and lucky to have caught beauty so frail with such coarse hands. Exactly the kind of girl who'd never in a million years go to bed with the likes of him. Blue-green threads of hair contrasted vividly against her snowy cheek, long tendrils stuck to her red-wine lips. So innocent… so perfectly different… he thought with a slight frown, taken with the exotic coloring and the delicate, curvy figure.

And that's when it happened.

One moment she was draped over the porcelain bowl and the next she was going at him, swinging her arm up to plunge the piece of mirror into his neck. He didn't put up resistance and he didn't know why. He wouldn't fight her, raise a hand or slap her off, even when her hand looked like it moved through thick syrupy molasses. It would have been easy to parry her thrust yet he remained still and unyielding.

Vegeta knew a murder attempt when he saw one. He understood the visceral strength it took. There was an icy cold demeanor needed to go through with it, but this, this wasn't it. Even as he felt the sharp edge of the mirror slice through his flesh with the sting of a knife he could see her wrist waver and her eyes dim in self-doubt.

She couldn't kill. It just wasn't in her.

You were either born with it or you weren't, you were either corruptible or not and his Chikyuu-jin concubine would certainly die a white lamb. She could tell herself as many lies as she wished and it wouldn't change that truth.

He tensed his neck before she reached his jugular, even though he knew she'd drop the shard long before reaching it. Her hold had slackened and no strength remained in her slender arm but he stiffened his neck to stanch the blood that flowed in copious amounts. He grabbed her wrist in a strong grip, feeling the hot streams as they poured and spread like black tentacles over the fabric of his shirt.

Bulma's eyes widened at two terrible realizations, not only had she failed in every way shape and form, but she was now certainly doomed. She gasped when he flicked her wrist and the piece of mirror hit the floor with a tinkling sound. A foiled attempt, her last chance at salvation and she couldn't do it. Kami, had she failed the universe? Had she condemned them all?

He lifted his chin, still shaken by the unexpected turn of events and sought the wound with unsteady fingers. They found their way to the place she'd slashed, more blood prying free when he exerted pressure over the cut. Little bitch. She'd given him a really long gash. That realization disarrayed his impervious frown as he held the gummy bloody fingers before his eyes. He stared at the gore for a moment before curling the fingers one by one and sending her a feral look of pure animalistic wrath.

Bulma gasped and tried to scramble away but he grabbed a hold of her long flowing tresses, hoisting her up and making her shriek. "Excellent work. You never cease to surprise me." He led her to the sink and turned her around to hang her over the sleek black basin. "You have five seconds to convince me why I shouldn't put an end to you tonight, and you'd better manage to do so while you wash your mouth. I don't like giving second chances." His threat was a breathy blow, black and dripping with violence.

He opened the tap and pushed her head down so fast, her lungs deflated with the motion. Long tendrils of terror wrapped around her brain but her iron neurons processed her thoughts with outstanding clarity. She cupped the trickle of icy water and rinsed her mouth thoroughly, thinking there was no way around it. This was the moment to share the truth she herself had just discovered. All she prayed was that Kami would let Vegeta see she was being honest, that she was about to bare her soul to him like she'd never before.

"One…"

"I have the ability to say a million things to save my ass Vegeta, things you'd probably consider lies anyway…" She finished rinsing and braced her hands on the sink, then hung her head and closed her eyes, for once pushing the mental cobwebs away and freeing her mind from its prison.

"Two…" Came a throaty number, one that sounded more like a growling threat.

"I can say that even if I won't give my body to you, I still want you with every fiber of my being. I want you like I've never wanted any other man. But then again, you already know that." She lifted her eyes to stare ahead listlessly through her dark sooty lashes. "I could say I am the one who'll help you achieve what you desire most in life, to be a Super Saiya-jin, but couldn't you somehow enlist my father in your ranks and do without me?"

He lowered his broad body over hers and slid his palms over her hands like warm blankets, both hanging on to the sink like their life depended on it. She knew he got high on the swirl of adrenaline any murderer must experience right before a kill. She could glean that much from the tremors of desire in his ki and how they filtered through his hands into her body.

"Three…" He whispered against her earlobe.

"That you want me too much to let me go and not having the possibility of sleeping with me again must be crushing your pride and burning you alive." She had started breathing in the same quick deep way she did when they were intimate, and she strived not to move. Carnal desire ran like wildfire through every vein and for a moment she didn't know where she ended and he began. His energy sizzled with barely contained lust but he also remained still against her. "Yet none of that's reason enough, Vegeta. At least not to me."

"Do you have a point?" His voice was grave, more like a purr, as his muscular arms grazed hers and the rough pads of his thumbs glided down her fingers slowly. "Because you're not helping yourself, woman."

Bulma opened her eyes and reared her head to stare at the polished black marble of the wall. The fact that she hadn't wanted to kill him , that her attempt had been so weak and spiritless had lent her an epiphany. She would fight against the universe for him and there was nothing she could do about it. "The real reason is I believe you don't actually WANT to kill me, Vegeta. The real reason is I believe in you."

Something tensed inside his body at the sound of those words, gravity sinking his stomach like it weight a ton. All of a sudden his ki became turbulent and washed over her like the rolling waves of a troubled sea.

"Four." His voice was now uncertain, the word lacking the ruthless determination that'd marked his earlier tirade. His fingers went lax and as they did, she could almost imagine his facial features disarraying.

"I don't know if I'm wrong to believe, but I do. Seeing your blood reminded me how alive you are, how violent your heart beats, stronger than that of any other man I've ever met. If you were as heartless as Frieza or as empty as any of his minions you'd have already done away with me, but you aren't." She slid a finger over one of his with cautious grace. "Even if you were to kill me tonight, I'd still think life for you can be different. So I won't ever stop believing. And I will die thinking you could be all you were meant to be."

She inhaled one last time, her fingers curling around his with gentleness, something no one had ever shown him before. Vegeta backed away and stared at her through blank endless eyes. She carefully turned around, her back against the edge of the sink and her soft blue eyes searching his scowl. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he squeezed his eyes shut, hanging his head and tilting it to the side. He struggled to remember what number followed in his little countdown and yet he felt he couldn't. He was supposed to be the epitome of evil. He was supposed to be all these things he thought he should be and yet, here he was, failing this test like a miserable fool.

"You don't have to kill again, Vegeta." Her whisper was fraught with faith, bursting, exploding with it and her soul was restless within. "You don't have to do things you don't want to anymore. You don't have to murder tonight."

He remembered now. Five. Dammit. Five was the number. Say it… say it. End it now. He could almost hear Frieza's cackle. His deranged command all the way from hell. His own father's booming voice filtered through his neurons like a toxin and spurned him on to the bloodshed. Then the voices multiplied, bellowing insults and every denigrating adjective he'd ever been called through his young life. Failure, shame, weak and maudlin. The specters hurled the verbal blows at him mercilessly and they lashed through his soul like the first time he'd heard them. They argued she was lying but then he couldn't smell or feel a lie. All he could feel was her honesty, pouring over and scalding him in the process. The quandary broke him and he gnashed his teeth, grabbing his hair and breathing heavily through his nose. His life, gods, his life never made any sense.

Bulma's eyes widened when he began pounding the wall in a fit of rage. Furious cries accompanied the motions, his fist driving through the now jagged surface over and over again until his skin tore and bled. It ached to see how he hurt himself, the pain and loneliness etched in every blow. The worse was she knew most of that anger and hatred was directed inwards and as much as she wanted, there was nothing she could say to clear the wounds of the past. She extended her arm in his direction, palm held up like a private angel tending a lifeline to a longsuffering victim.

"Vegeta, please…"

At the sound of his name he ceased, but his breathing remained ragged and his semblance shaken. He turned eyes rimmed with fury towards her, teeth grating every word he pronounced. "What have you done to me?" He prowled towards her and snatched her to him roughly, chests meeting and pupils clashing at the same time. His two palms cupped her cheeks, pressing them strongly so her lips puckered. "You drive me crazy. Every little thing you do, every little thing you say. My obsession with you is ruining me. Undo your spell, release me from your powers, you damn Chikyu-jin witch."

"I-I am not…" She started, but he strengthened his hold. She'd done more than enough talking as far as he was concerned. The fact that he couldn't kill her and he couldn't have her either was maddening him. "I should rape you…"

At that, Bulma's pupils shrunk and he felt a trace of satisfaction when her fear wafted heavily through his nostrils. "I should take you by force and sate my cravings, but I won't. I've never degraded myself by violating a woman and I don't plan on starting now." His eyes glinted eerily as he roughly trapped her. "I can't kill you and I can't have you and yet you hold me prisoner with no chain in sight."

His palms freed her face and they landed on her narrow waist, digging fingers with cruel pressure on her now thinner body. He could feel her bones protruding, the hard jutted contours reminding him how much weight she'd lost in these past few days. But it was all irrelevant, for no matter what state it was in, her body alone could do the trick. "Now it turns out you've ruined my taste for whores. I thought I'd sleep with another woman to get this over with." A dry snort and he continued. "Yet I couldn't even remember I'd taken her card until you pulled it out. Damn great." He glanced down over the palatable curves of that milky supple body she possessed and she tensed instinctively, her wild spirit not yet ready to be tamed. What a pity she kept denying herself a little of his dominance. After all, he knew for a fact just how much she deep down liked it.

"But you will please me tonight, woman, of that you can be sure." She gasped and dug her nails into the hard hills of his biceps, shivering at the way he was looking at her. He then gave her a twisted smile. "Don't worry, touching you won't be necessary, but by the time I'm done with you, you'll sure wish I had."

Bulma felt both nerves and desire curl in her abdomen, constricting her gut. What was he talking about? She was sure he was a man who kept his promises, so he wouldn't be forcing himself on her tonight. But if he wouldn't take her body until she gave in willingly, she had a lot of agony to look forward to. Not being touched by him was, to her, the worst type of punishment.

Quicker than she could register, he whirled her around and hooked his arm around her neck then walked her so she could face the mirrored wall. The reflective surface ran from the tiled marble floor to the ceiling, allowing her a thorough look at herself. She winced at the reflection, not believing how badly she resembled a streetwalker, from the tussled waves of hair to the black mascara smudged around her eyelids. But he… oh he looked like a prince of darkness, beautiful and deadly from the thick silken hair to the tip of his boots. The gore trailing down his neck, chest and arm only added to his appeal and Bulma found herself licking her lips.

"You like that?" He roughly whispered, letting go of her and placing his palms flat against the cool surface of the mirror. His arms were angled and spread out, framing his victim and trapping her in the little space between him and the mirror. "You want to taste it?" His voice caressed her throat, lips brushing her lightly.

"Why would I?" She said chewing on her lip and looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"You shouldn't but you do. You deny us both a little taste of heaven like the stubborn wench you are even when lust clouds your eyes. Are you wanting me to "change" before you give in to me?" He said with mocking derision "What does it take Bulma? Can't you see you ask too much of me?" He pressed his nose to the side of her face, taking in the aroma of female and wildflower she was emanating. Then he touched a finger to her nape, gliding it smoothly down the arch of her spine. The motion was languid, soft, until he reached the swell of her ass. "What we both know is your curious. You'd like me to show you how I treat a whore, if only for one night. You want to see how it is."

"I already know how it is." She spouted sideways. "I can't forget how it is, as a matter of fact. Isn't that how you treated me back in Chikyuu? Weren't you using me like one of your bitches?'"

His full lips broadened into a snide smile and he looked at her through the mirror. She cursed the fact that when it came to matters of the flesh, nothing fazed him. His arrogance was truly monumental. "Girl, you've seen nothing. When you next come to me, I'll show you what it's like to be burning and afraid. Would you like that?"

Bulma exhaled and looked at her flustered double on the wide-length mirror. He glared at her, sliding a powerful hand around her neck and squeezing with remarkable control. It wasn't meant to break but it was enough to make her head pound. "See, you're going to have to speak tonight to please me. I suggest you wrap that idea around your head." Bulma, who was looking at herself chin tilted upwards, stretched her neck against his cruel grasp and issued a shuddery breath. "Why don't you tell me what you like, little human. Spill it all out."

Her bottom was pressed against his hardness, that bulging arousal that pushed into her buttcheeks, feeding the desires of her own flesh. The picture before her was both sweet and macabre, a dark painting where her small body, curvaceous and needy, stood against his broader, more powerful one. "I…I can't do that."

"Yes you can, and you will. You will give me what I want if you know what's good for you." He examined the image on the mirror with heated eyes that travelled down to her breasts. They remained glued there, pupils narrowing like an animal scenting an easy prey. "For instance, I can tell you I want to push that flimsy red fabric apart and suck on your hard ripe tits. They have been calling to me all night, beckoning me to touch them. I want to fill my mouth with them and flick my tongue over the tips until they're sore." Bulma shivered and swallowed hard, exhaling then as a cold sweat of want spread over her. "I want to massage and twist them softly with my murderous hands, grazing my thumbs over the crests and making them yearn for more." He spoke against her temple, wet lips scorching her with their heat. "…See your face as you ride the pleasure I give you…"

The tiny hairs all over her body stood in attention to his wicked words, heart thumping stalwartly in her chest. "Take it off." He ordered arrogantly, releasing her neck and placing his palms against the mirror. His breathing still whispered over her skin as he watched her reflection with menacing eyes. Bulma's hands obeyed like he had spoken magic, undoing the knot on her halter neck with ease and following the descent of the whispery garment as it peeled off her skin and hung at her waist. She was now bare, except for the necklace, the hotpants and the heels.

"What would you want me to do to you…" He continued, eying the plump, fleshy mounds of her breasts as the nipples formed into perfect little pebbles.

Bulma's head lolled back, still disbelieving what was happening but not wanting it to stop. She uttered a shaky sigh and a rogue hand snaked up her chest to grab the sensitive flesh of her right breast. She kneaded it lazily before closing her eyes in longing. "Touch me…"

Vegeta's expression changed and he pressed a smirk against the side of her face, lifting an eyebrow at Bulma's reflection. "Roll my heavy breasts on your hands and whisper over them before you savor them." She added in a hoarsened voice that was trimmed with stark need. She then emitted a sound and her hands folded over the objects of their attention to squeeze them gently. This was the part of her body that had always held his undying admiration and she knew that fully well.

Vegeta sought her lips. "That's it, keep touching yourself." He commanded right before sucking lightly on her lower lip, biting and tugging with painstaking gentleness. Bulma's rosy tongue ventured out, seeking Vegeta's own counterpart to taste it. The damp sound of their mouths entwining filled the space, kindling the fire between them.

Bulma twisted her neck some more so she could lick the open wound on his neck, and he tensed, rolling his eyes and rearing his gaze to the ceiling. It stung like a mother and yet it felt like the slash was connected to his straining manhood, like her lips pulled on a string directly tied to the swollen sacks of sperm between his thighs. "Mmm… ffuck." He whispered, fingertips paling as his hands folded into fists against the surface of the mirror.

Her lips became slightly coated with his blood, and she smeared it off with her fingers, laving the metallic taste with her tongue. She then twisted back to regard the mirror and glide fervent hands over the hungry flesh of her bosom. Her eyes were slitted on the reflection, happy to have given him pleasure and pain all at the same time. A dainty hand covered with his blood pressed down her chest and smeared the crimson substance down her pale damp skin. Her hips swayed slightly as she did, ass rubbing against the tumid flesh trapped behind his pants.

Vegeta's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes gleaming fire when he felt the sultry motions teasing his body. He settled on those pretty, big, round breasts and how they tortured him with their presence alone.

"What else do you like? Tell me your secrets." He spurned her on, eager to satisfy some endless craving only she could incite in him.

Her index finger was sneaking south, creeping beneath the tight material of the hotpants that hugged her hips so tightly. "Your flesh… big and hard as it desecrates me inch by inch. How fat and veiny it is as it rubs me from the inside." Her entire frame trembled, fingers finding her own sensitive bud of pleasure and the petals of flesh hooding it.

Vegeta grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her in an unnatural position, sending daggers of pain up her limb. "I did not give you permission to touch yourself down there, slave." He spoke sadistically, knowing he was pushing her to the edge of pain and deriving his own pleasure from it. This was what he was good at, the art that he had mastered and so very few could boast of. Balancing both sensations was not for the weak of stomach. Playing with fire was not for the incompetent, but he, well, he excelled at administering pain and pleasure in equal doses.

She was his victim, the one he sought to dominate with his lust, hate, and maddened wanton. She was his lewdest sexual fantasy come true.

Kami, her arm hurt, bolts of pain shot through her limb and tore a hoarse cry from her throat. Her body's contortion only kindled his passion and he grinned like a devil into her half-naked reflection. "Beautiful…" He whispered, transfixed in the image of her writhing body. "I want to fuck you right now." Her mouth became dry at the sound of his dark voice and she attempted to drum up enough saliva to ease the cottony feeling. "I want to do you like an animal. Lick every single inch of your body until your legs grow damp with your own desire. Would you enjoy that?" His question was rhetorical. Truth is he knew how she liked playing these twisted little games; how great she was at feeding his inner monster. She mewled in a blinding mixture of pleasure and pain. Her arm… Oh God, her arm was twisted. "Would you??'"

She stretched her throat and rasped out a yes. "I would."

"Really?" He added with a crooked smile as he studied her victim. He grabbed a hold of her other arm and twisted it as well, forcing a cry out of the plump crimson lips. Her knees almost knocked together in response, struggling to keep her in a standing position. "That's good because I want to penetrate you. I want to feel your greedy little regions as they milk me dry."

Bulma, winced, feeling the physical suffering intensified. She instinctively marveled at his ability to control his strength, for if he hadn't he could have snapped her arms like twigs. However as they were, he was administering just the right portion of pain so that lust could be kindled.

He pressed her to the mirror, the coldness stiffening the tips of her breasts and pushing the air out of her lungs at once. A hand held both her wrists behind her and then another one hooked onto her outfit to tear it off with utmost dexterity. The sound of the garment ripping tensed up her thighs and widened her eyes in anticipation. It fell away in scraps, offering a succulent view of her tiny waist and wide womanly hips. The round, perfect flesh of her ass was angled towards him, and her moistened rosy womanhood peered from underneath.

"When I finally get you I am going to spread your legs twenty times in one night so you have a lot of pain to look forward to. Now I want you to touch it for me, stroke it a little so you get a taste of what's coming."

"You nasty fc-ck." Her last word got squashed in her throat as he pushed her further against the mirror. The coolness of the surface touching her skin sent ripples of delight through her body until they reached her swollen entrance. "You're going to take every other woman's place, I swear. Weren't you indignant I even thought of doing someone else tonight? Well, now bear with it. Give me what I want and believe it could be way worse. Believe I am merciful for not raping you."

The cruel grip he maintained on her wrists eased a bit so she could tear one hand free. "You should see what I see right now. Open and begging to be spread… every little thirsty nerve waiting on me." Then he intensified his hold and spoke against her neck. "I am going to make you come, little one, without even laying a finger on it. You'll imagine it's me touching you and you'll want it to never stop."

Bulma's chest swelled against the mirror, breasts squeezing and spilling to the sides. "Now, I gave you a direct order and I am waiting." She grated a harsh breath. If she wanted the pain to go away she'd have to give in to the pleasure, that's how it went with him, so a finger sought that place he was so worked up over, her fingertip circling around the soft delicate flesh.

She opened her mouth in a silent moan. Doing it for him was way better than she could have ever dreamt, and she found her saliva thickening as she fantasized it was him stretching her out to accommodate his length. "Vegeta…" She breathed against the mirror, overtaken in the sinful sensations scourging her body. "I want you to come inside me and never leave. Never leave me."

He chuckled deep in his throat, watching her finger move into her cleft with torturous need. Dammit, she was tight. He could remember that very well and her finger's motions brought back the memories full force. Vegeta tilted his face slightly to have a better view, more aware than ever of his own jutting desire. He pulled her back against him so he could feast his eyes on the reflection of her naked body. He devoured her contours with unhindered hunger, taking in every swell and dip of his pleasure girl. She'd be his again. She had to.

"If you want it that bad, fuck yourself then... harder." He said simply, sounding every bit as authoritative as he looked. Bulma parted lips that had gone dry, passing her tongue over them to taste the remains of his coppery blood once more. "Imagine it's me tearing you open. Think I am pressing you against the mirror and plunging into you over and over again. That's the way I'd have you tonight. That's the way I want you." His voice was now hoarser and his body warmer.

"Vegeta..." She began, but he cut her speech short when he grabbed her throat again and squeezed ever so slightly.

"Vegeta? I am not Vegeta to you. I am the one who violates you, don't you remember?"

Bulma clawed at his forearm desperately, her head thrown back and her ears pulsating with the pressure. He released her just in time, knowing the lack of air actually heightened pleasure when done correctly. The intensification of her lustful scent indicated just that.

She wasn't in the least surprised when he grabbed her hair next in a messy blue bundle. "What did I teach you to call me?" He hissed.

"Master." She seeped through her teeth, pleasure hitting insolently at the mere mention of the name he liked her using when it was time for punishment. "You egotistical, sick fucker. You are my master."

"That's better." He added, smirking, feeling about to explode in his pants as the beautiful sound of the word as it rolled off her lips. She gave him just what he wanted every time. "I want to watch you give in to pleasure. I want to watch it all. "

Bulma's bare ass pressed against the tight material covering the turgid length of his erection. He was big, she knew that… the touch brought every memory crashing powerfully.

She took in air and did as he commanded and so they both watched concentrated as she slid into her most sensitive regions unashamedly. They imagined it was him burying into her with the thick power he carried, her insides burning in remembrance. The prolonged need had made her walls sleek with sweet moisture and she gasped repeatedly, knowing fully well she was like a dam about to burst.

Vegeta's hands pressed against the mirror again, eyes swimming in barely checked lust as he watched the wicked spectacle he'd created for his own enjoyment. Gods, she was truly fucking beautiful, like dark, sinful poetry to his ears and candy to his eyes. Every little moan, every little gesture on her face sending him over the edge. No other woman would do.

Bulma was forced to stand with her legs apart, her breasts perky and the Saiyan Rock of Fire resting heavily over them as she touched herself like he so lewdly desired. "You have to wait for me." He growled. She could hear the sound of a button as it snapped free and a zipper as it backtracked. She knew right away what was about to happen. She could imagine it all in her head, his big strong hand enfolding himself and handling his desire with just the right pressure, wrist twisting masterfully as he stroked it.

Bulma quivered. "I am going to…" She gasped.

"No you won't. Not until it's right." He instructed roughly. One of his palms covered one of her hands against the mirror and the other one grabbed his stiffened member. Then their mouths met in a messy kiss that was more teeth clashing and tongues flicking than anything else. Her knees, long turn to jelly threatened to give away as she watched him watch her through the mirror.

"Let it end." She implored, fingertips wrinkling with the moisture that dampened her thighs and ran down free.

"Let it end? Don't make me laugh, woman." He said with cynicism, his knuckle brushing against the smooth surface of her ass as he sated his flesh from tip to base. The sensitive peak of his member was so close to her skin it was terribly frustrating. The tip burnt with the need to touch her but he couldn't break his promise. This was not the moment to have her yet, but it was taking every ounce of his much prided control to not give in to his basest needs. "Beg me, to spend it all over you." He stated with a barely recognizable voice.

She breathed and paused her motions, her heart skipping a beat as she felt the imminence of a climax. What good would it do to disobey him now? "Please, I want to feel you over me…." Came her ragged whisper.

Vegeta grunted and triggered his release with a few more motions, dispensing it over her sweaty white skin. His expression remained stern even through his orgasm but his brow was covered in perspiration.

"You're mine." He stated, his pleasure extending out like a mantle of heat over her. As it did, Bulma gasped, eyes widening when she felt her own climax pushing its way through.

She cried out, sinking to the floor and starting to convulse; her heart pounded like it was going to tear her chest open. "I… can't…" Came her moan. "I can't anymore." One hand slid down the floor and she lay on one side on the ground, her insides spasming.

He placed a boot over her spine, pressing down gently and pinning her to the ground, then stared down his nose with hard piercing eyes. "You can't take it anymore?" He sounded like he was enjoying himself, cruel and harsh, self-satisfaction etched in every syllable. "Let it out then."

Bulma shrieked, the loud ringing sound bouncing off the walls of the chamber in its stridence. She looked gorgeous, sprawled on the floor in the throws of the pleasure he'd given her. He applied more pressure with his boot over her back, the smell of her desire as it spilled out rendering him half-drunk.

"Nice." He whispered, watching her heaving on the floor and riding every last ounce of the rapture. If he could, he'd have her like this forever.

After a moment or so of tilting his neck to study her expression, he let the pressure go and nudged her lightly on the ribs with the tip of his combat boot. He didn't say anything, merely assessed her state of consciousness to see if she had blacked out already or was still debating herself between sleep and awareness.

Bulma sighed and shivered once more before darkness came over demanding to take her. Every single muscle in her body went lax as the last ripples of ecstasy he'd given her ebbed. She couldn't believe he'd made her burn without even touching her and couldn't fathom what it'd be like if he ever laid hands on her again. She probably wouldn't survive, but it would most definitely be the sweetest way to die.

That was the last thought to cruise her mind as she lent into the arms of oblivion. That and the sour fact that he'd left her there, thrown and used like another one of his whores. And then just before she walked through the threshold of sleep, worn and exhausted, she felt him pick her up in his arms, wrapping her in one of his silken black robes in the process. She lied in his arms like a broken doll, head slung back over the cradle of his arm as he carried her through the halls of the suite and reached his bedroom.

She had vowed to never lie on that lush, interminable bed, but she didn't protest as her body made contact with its soft, cushioned surface. She curled into a tight little knot and buried her face into the velvety pillows that smelled like him, issuing a tiny smile. That crisp, masculine scent that so inflamed her blood travelled to her lungs and swirled into her bloodstream as she waged a battle with consciousness, one she eventually lost.

She'd found pleasure without bounds in the arms of her man. The man she'd willingly die for. His name may have slipped her lips, but she wouldn't have known. Sleep had already snatched her away to a dark place of endless satisfactions.


	21. Ritualistic

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, no matter what Vegeta whispers in my ear.

**AN:** This chapter was a complete ordeal to put out, not because it was difficult to think up or write, but because too much was messing with my mind. It was bad enough that I thought I'd never be able to write again, so the mere fact that I'm writing this author's note is surreal to me. I give credit to every person who poked for an update and to the beautiful mind-blowing comments dropping in.

I've updated my site (see link on my profile). There's now a part called "Treasure chest", with art and drabbles I've received from some of the most talented people I've met. You might like what you find there. I've officially fallen in love with the artists behind them.

This is a short chapter, by my standards, but fear not. The next one's already written and I guess it's coming soon depending on how much it's wanted. To end this long ass note, I do need this chapter, even if it's not riddled with action. I trust you'll see why, later on.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 21 **

Step 22 – Ritualistic

They stood in silence atop the barren crest of a craggy cliff, casting eyes over the blue-green waters that stretched as far as they could see. Wandering winds twined around them, whispering sibilant nothings in their ears. The silence and isolation made for an awkward peace, to that she could agree, but the surroundings weren't exactly mesmerizing. Ten minutes would have sufficed in this irregular surface that jutted to dizzying heights from the pooling oceans beneath. The uneven mass of boulder and rock stood alone in the vastness, still and proud as it watched over a silent remote region of the Ixian planet. Much like the Prince at her side.

She ventured a glance at him and settled on his fearsome profile, clearly outlined against the brightness of day. His eyes were fathomless, his expression august and no trace of movement disrupted it apart from the occasional blinking. Clad in armor he appeared every bit as intimidating as he was. He'd chosen the latest one she'd configured to his singular specifications, many weeks before in the comfort of Chikyuu. It was deep blue and limpid white, gilded in places that caught the soft midmorning light. She couldn't understand the reason for wearing such attire on a day that promised to unravel with ease but she wouldn't voice her contemplations. A tiny part of her relished he'd donned something wrought by her hand, worse after the rocky events from last night. At that thought her eyes drifted to the velvet tan of his neck, eyes tracing the cut that peered right behind the collar of his suit.

In her mind it was all a haze, a mesh of lust, liquor and drugs coupled with rage and indignity on both their parts. She couldn't even pinpoint when hate had shifted to roiling passion or how they'd managed to find release from the madness. But they had. They had spoken a language of violence only they understood and stoked their lustful fires until the flames devoured them whole. No touch had been needed, except for those unholy kisses that should be declared illegal. So endlessly gratifying and so masculine in taste. She truly didn't know how she felt about it now that dawn had broken. Only that whilst she knew she'd never take his life, no matter the danger he posed for her and her species, she wasn't sure he'd show her the same kind of mercy.

Yet, today he appeared pensive, like a lion pondering a kill in a cage. He'd dragged her here with no apparent purpose, and that was placing her on edge.

She shifted slightly, now shamelessly staring at him as she crossed arms over the cushion of her chest. A spark ignited in the sea colored depths of her eyes, one he couldn't miss. She was letting him know with the subtle cues of her body that she didn't really see the point in this little tryst.

That morning she had woken in a cocoon of black silk, a gloved hand trailing gently down her swanlike neck until it reached the place where her pulse fluttered. Slowly he'd come into focus, his solid weight shifting the bed as he sat on the edge, regarding her with an air of mystery in the pit of his eyes.

She could have sworn she saw a tinge of satisfaction curl his upper lip when she awoke to her senses, a few seconds elapsing until his velvety voice uttered a simple invitation. "Get dressed, if you want to come with me." It was a question veiled in the form of a gentle command, and she knew it'd taken everything of him to lower his pride enough to utter it.

He'd waited in a rare show of meekness, for her to comply, to show him a sign she'd go with him willingly. The slight apprehension that tensed his frame eased when she rose to a sitting position, his hand aching to indulge in the creamy suppleness of the woman sitting naked on his bed, the one he couldn't have. Her skin was surely warm from the sheets, her eyes shadowed by malnourishment but still sparkling with spirit. He knew she'd been left sensitized from last night, that she undoubtedly wanted him. That knowledge alone was more than provoking. No matter her worrisome condition, there was no doubt she'd still have the stamina to keep up with him were they to give in right there and then.

But he'd chosen to avert his eyes and rise to his feet, snorting inwardly at the irony of it all. Never had he slept with a woman, in his very own suite and not indulged greedily in what she had to offer. Then again, he'd never behaved as preposterously as he did when he was around her.

Bulma had hastily dressed, donning shapeless black trousers and knee length boots to complement a simple white blouse that opened at her neck. She'd plopped at the dining table and gobbled up the copious breakfast sprawled before her, obviously laid by the hands of servants.

She'd then let him take her with him, carrying her over the imposing bridges that arched from tower to tower until at last, they faded in the horizon. They hadn't spoken as he dashed like a bullet through the foreign skies, long minutes unfolding until they spotted the lonesome peak they now stood on.

But they hadn't flown straight to the top. They'd landed at the base of the formation, all the while Bulma fighting the urge to assail him with questions. She let the enigma of their journey hang between them as they traipsed over a naturally winding trail, slowly ascending over the parched uneven ground beneath them. The specks of crystal that scintillated in the air like stardust faded the higher they went until none remained. It was a challenging hike, one her lungs struggled to breathe through, but a strong arm eased her way through the rougher patches, his iron muscles taking the brunt.

All through the process she wondered at the purpose of the trip. He could have taken her to the pinnacle but he hadn't, thus they'd spent an hour together, walking along in silence. More than once she'd glanced at him only to be met with the immutable cast of his face, nothing disarraying the slight frown that creased his brow. His only answer was a grunt when she'd asked about the reactor, signaling he'd already picked it up from the dealer. It seemed he'd been busy long before she wakened to the subtle feel of his touch.

She'd half expected their destination to be a mythical wonderland, a sight so breathtaking it would compensate for the poor panorama they'd endured as they traveled up the slope, but the dusty trail had led to this lifeless top that hunkered over the oceans unimaginatively.

That's when the staring into the distance had started, something Bulma couldn't quiet see the fun in. He on the other hand, seemed to be rather pleased. Long moments of silence had slowly frayed at her patience until the harpy within reared its unsightly head. So here she was, arms folded and on the verge of a verbal protest. The king of practicality should have lifted off planet as soon as he'd taken possession of the reactor, yet he'd dragged her to what appeared to be the very edge of the planet.

She took a step forward and filled up her lungs. "Veg…"

"Do you see those rings of light forming in the distance?"

Bulma stopped abruptly in her tracks, her words cut short. At the interruption, she craned her head and regarded the horizon with curiosity. "What…" She narrowed her eyes, eyebrows dipping to signal her obvious confusion.

"Look carefully, woman. Right ahead. The rays of sunlight fall askew until they touch the water and as they do, they loop into rings that glisten like fire."

Bulma's eyes slit further until she saw the circles that faded in and out of view. They were made of pure light, filtering through the air in graceful patterns. Something like an aurora borealis made of spiraling rays.

"I used to come here to train in the early hours of the morning, when the atmospheric phenomena came into view the way you see it now." Came the deep baritone of his voice, gaze fixed on the rare natural spectacle.

Had he just talked about his past? She slowly veered her pupils back to him, her expression doused in disbelief. She deliberately kept her silence, needing him to go on, suddenly afraid of spoiling the moment. A realization befell her. This was a glimpse into his life, more about the privilege then about "the point." The quiet walk up the weather-beaten formation, as rough and unrelenting as it'd been, the endless staring into the distance, it had all been part of a personal ritual only he was privy to. And now he'd let her partake on it, a creature he'd often declared lowly.

Bulma disentangled her arms and her face lost its edge. She'd been entitled to the world since day one, nothing ever denied to her. Vegeta had been the one "thing" she came to covet. He was the one man who wouldn't give in to her. Not in bed, not in spirit. He gave exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. No soft-spoken word or gesture of acknowledgement was given freely. And through it all he retained that air of aloofness that could drive any woman insane. She often wondered if he even knew how devastatingly attractive it truly was.

Today, at least, she was the one he'd chosen. He'd been opening a closed compartment to her, out of his own volition, inviting her on his warrior-like version of some sort of 'date' and she'd been stupidly unaware all along. This was the best he could do, open up the windows of his past into their present. He was not much of a talker, lacked all the social skills, but silence spoke volumes. He'd wanted to do with her something he often did alone. Alone until today. Bulma's soul twitched, a pull so strong she thought it'd change her forever. She couldn't fathom a life were so much loneliness and trauma existed.

He turned to her, brows lowering with that casual indolent beauty. The graceful curves of his lips shifted sideways and something wicked glinted in his eye. "I suggest you step back now. You don't want to be close for what's coming."

She was puzzled but she quickly did as he said and widened the distance between them. A few moments and the pebbles on the surface began rattling in the wake of his power. The ground fractured in a spidery radius from the point where he stood and energy shot around him, encasing him in a haze of indigo. Electricity licked along his muscles, crackling and popping as it lashed through the air. "You need raw power to detonate an attack that will reach the rings, and the precision of a _gun_ to pass through one of them cleanly." He said, his ki zinging. "That became clear after several failed attempts. I figured it out at eighteen standard years, shortly after my first grade _A_ mission."

The air around them whirled in agitation, her long strands of hair whipping in the funneling winds. She hid her eyes behind her sleeve, peering from behind the thick curtain of her lashes. His luminance grew until she thought she'd go blind and slowly his body shifted. His arms folded together to his side and in a moment of thunder he stretched them forward, palms out. A bright beam of purple energy exploded forth, preceded by his booming voice calling up a "Gallic Gun". The force of the blast sent her sliding back against the ground, all her efforts thrown into not falling. She tensed so her feet would anchor, eyes following the course of his attack until it shot through a faraway ring meticulously.

He followed it too, until the blast faded in the horizon, sporting a self-satisfied smirk across his countenance. He looked so smug he reminded her of a big contented cat. She was sure he'd be lashing his tail if he had one. He'd probably wagged it in pleasure the first time he'd managed to pull the feat.

The trick was nice, that she could attest to, but it was the purpose that really struck her. A sense of wicked pleasure tickled her basic instincts. It must be his animal side, something naturally male or perhaps his innate pride. Whatever it was, he'd displayed his power before her like a tiger roaring his might. She knew roses and chocolates like every other girl, but she'd never been courted quiet like this before. It was potent and primal, and it called to the female within her with blood stirring force.

He crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest and lifted an eyebrow to her maliciously. "Of course I promptly learned a Gallic Gun had more practical uses. Namely shooting the head of the enemy cleanly off."

Well, she couldn't believe she was standing on the birthplace of his trademark attack. Bulma's gut wrenched at the gruesome image of the beheadings but it didn't wipe that sinful satisfaction. She was being pursued by a beautiful man, strong and brave. Who was rich by many standards and who, oh gods, was also prince. She suddenly felt dizzy.

She wouldn't openly admit it, but the raw energy that thrummed through his veins enticed her, his arrogance wildly magnetic only because he truly had the power to back it up. She was aware other women must have found him terribly alluring for the same reasons, but had they ever stuck to see past the armored exterior? Would he have let them anyway?

She approached him with a slight sway of her hips, her steps slow and intense until his eyes flickered to hers. Gently her palm travelled over the hard slopes of his arms, and he followed that bird-boned hand as it found its way along a bulging bicep.

"I wish I knew what it's like to cradle such power." She said, touching him as a mortal would touch a God. He was sublime, larger than life and she wanted to let him know that's exactly what she thought right now. His spit caught in his throat at her gentle words of adoration. Her touch was innocent and seductive, lingering so delicately it felt like she was touching him for the very first time. He felt like he wanted to do it again, Gallic Gun just to see that look of awe shifting the planes of her face. Then again, a blush colored the tops of his bronze cheeks as she continued her girly appreciation of his power and virility.

"I wish I felt what it's like to be so… perfect." Her fingers glided up over the side of his neck, rendering Vegeta mute and enthralled. She had this power over him, the unknowing vixen, to lay his senses dormant. They're eyes looked far into the other, black colliding against blue. Every trace of insecurity he'd never admit to, was assuaged by her words. He'd lived his life seeking perfection, looking forward to his Ascension like the moment he'd finally be whole. It was in the embodiment of the Super Saiyan that he'd find a true sense of accomplishment, as his father and his people had decreed long ago. No perfection could be associated with him until he bridged that gap, every breath a failure until that foretold day. So why did she look at him the way she did? Like only the present matter, like he was enough the way he was?

He realized in bewilderment that he wanted to kiss her, to brand her lips with the heat of his want. It was a sudden impulse, one he didn't follow though his every cell clamored to. For the first time he didn't think about possessing her, only about giving in to her. He wanted to shove his heart, his soul, his dick deep inside her and forget who he was. That thought unnerved him to the core. A kiss could seal his fate, imprisoning him in her arms forever. His gaze, still hypnotized, settled on her mouth. "Baby…" She whispered, throwing him back to the days she called him that in the heated afterglow of sex. "How I wish I knew." Her hand was now cupping his face, the words brushing against his ardent lips.

"I can show you more than you could ever handle." He told her in a voice thickly slathered with appetite. "I can lay the heavens at your feet, crumble entire worlds, enslave them or set them free in your name, if you so much as said the word." His gloved hand reached out to cup her chin, much the same way she was touching his now. "If you so much as asked…"

Thickly muscled arms wound around her waist, pressing her to him, molding her softness to his hardness. He whiffed her hair, certain he'd gone mad, but not wanting to stop. Never had a woman obsessed him so, the need to impale her and drink her very blood driving him mad. He gently turned her so her back was flush against the solid wall of his chest plate. "I can show you the power of the Gods. Close your eyes and let go." White gloved hands enfolded hers.

Bulma had no idea what he intended to do, but leant into him like a doll against her puppeteer. And slowly his fingers twined around hers, locking their bodies so they stood as one over the imposing view before them. Energy sizzled through him and thrummed right into her. It shot down her limbs until she felt like a pregnant supernova, ready to burst into a shower of light. She gasped, bosom rising in expectation as he brought four hands together into a familiar position. Energy balled like purple fire against the soft flesh of her palms.

"I'll absorb the impact of the recoil into my muscles." He mentioned in her ear, his breath both warm and reassuring.

And then she felt it, the name of the attack bouncing around in her stomach as a Gallic Gun burst forth from their locked hands and out into the open space that mantled the oceans. It exploded in mind-blowing power, piercing cleanly through space until it lanced through the rings. Then the spray of light curled along the stratosphere and flickered off above the heavens.

Short breathless sounds escaped her lips, the wind sucked off her chest like she'd ridden a rollercoaster. "God…I'd never… I'd never done that." She claimed with excitement, whirling around in his arms. Her face was aglow with the thrill, proper words eluding her as she grinned. A million interjections weren't enough to describe the indescribable. The tiny little hairs all over her body were still standing, her long flowing hair puffed comically at the frizzing effects of the powerful discharge.

He grunted, a slanted smile softening the severity of his features. "Woman, you should see what the wattage did to you. Your human hair would fare ridiculously in battle." She emitted a high pitched sound and patted her mussed up hair, then hastily pulled it into a messy ponytail.

Her cheeks flared to a rosy hue and she punched him loosely in the chest. What a typical thing for Mr. Perfectly Erect Hair to say. "I now understand that gravity-defying mane. Saiyan hair is all about the wattage." She quipped and to her eternal surprise he actually chuckled, a short grave sound that seemed to sprout from a hidden region in his chest.

He remained there, for long heavy seconds, his eyes sinking into hers with a sense of urgency she didn't know how to interpret. She waited to see if he would say it, words she herself had been close to uttering but had pushed back down many times. She dreamt he'd speak of the feelings that accursed him, that he'd talk of the heart and how it beat for her. She'd echo those words afterwards, fall down in a heap and make love under the gentle shower of the Ixian suns. No one in this world would hear her as she howled to the winds that she wanted him. No one would listen to her screaming his name in reckless abandon.

But seconds elapsed and the moment was lost. The air between them remained empty and the unspoken words charged the space with their absence.

"We'd better get going." He stated curtly, eyes drifting away. A slight frown pulled his brow back in place and he started back the way they came. But a childlike hand sprung forth to manacle his wrist, swift and calming. His eyes slid down to the place where their bodies met, befuddlement in his expression. "Please. Let me hold onto you. I don't want to fall and scrape a knee." Came a soft-spoken explanation.

Vegeta regarded her heavily, but he didn't shake her off. He couldn't understand her, but most of all he couldn't understand himself. Why the hell did he keep coming back to her, offering her things he'd never offered anyone before? Wasn't she his sworn enemy? Who cared what the bitch wanted. He should be preoccupied with his own fucked up life and not wanting to make her squeal, but when he saw her happy… when he saw her smile, time came undone.

He let her hold him, her hand fierce and faithful as they made their way down. He told himself he only allowed it so he wouldn't have to worry about her hurting herself and inconveniencing him, that he didn't find it in any way… pleasing.

He struggled to remember his private credos the entire hour it took for them to reach the bottom. He repeated them as a mantra in his head… that he was doing this as a way to screw with her, make her sweat a little. That only lazy slobs discarded healthy exercise such as this in favor of flight. He convinced himself that she must still think him a monster, and it served her well. He was one indeed. Her hold and proximity must be surely to avoid falling on this rocky ground, no matter if she didn't let go in the easy parts of the trek.

But the voices in his mind centered on the main core of his beliefs, the one he'd believed true for thirty years. That his heart was unassailable.

And so it went, the droning litany of his inner demons, stretching until nothing remained. Many minutes later the voices died down. All he was left with was a keen sense, something that budded in the pit of the heart he thought dead. He felt like a Prince today and she in turn felt like his mistress. Last night they'd performed a deadly dance and still, somehow, they had persevered.


	22. Lamb and the Wolf

AN: This is a most sincere thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It's a vast saturated fandom, spanning God knows how many years and countless authors, so your words are truly to cherish.

How to Make Love to a Saiyan

Chapter 22

Step 23 – Lamb and the Wolf

"And on your right, the bloody pond, a timeless landmark of the outer rim of hell." An excited murmur sprinkled with "uuhs" and "aahs" spread forth from the crowd sitting on the trolley. They glanced wide-eyed in the same direction, fingers curling on the edge of the doors. A portly blue ogre holding a megaphone stood at the front, peering at the crimson body of liquid that lay inert and unsuspecting. He grinned a toothy grin at the fountain in the middle, marveling at the grace with which it filtered its contents, then turned back to the audience. They swayed their head in unison, all little white collared men with glasses and horns sitting in an orderly fashion. "It's said to be bottomless, harboring the blood from the countless victims dismembered in the chambers of torture." He raised a thick finger to the attentive lot, his dim-witted, sluggish voice booming through the speakers. "That's right, torture, because we do get some very bad people around here…"

"Can't an old woman tan in peace!" A rock bounced off the head of the blue-skinned mastodon. After the hollow clonk was heard, the buggy-full of clerks turned to the old, pink-haired woman sat atop a beach chair and gasped. Two round slices of cucumber glared from over her eye sockets, one plumpish hand holding a headphone away from her ear. "I can hear you all the way through my recording." She yelled at the onlookers. Her black robe was rolled to the tops of her thighs, her sleeves bunched over her shoulders leaving the pasty skin exposed to the rays of sun.

"Oh, dear Enma Sama." One of the members of the audience uttered nervously, readjusting his glasses over his nose. He then shifted eyes to the leader of the excursion. "I do believe it might be best to move along, sir, ogre, sir."

The burly creature cleared his throat, still caught in a daze. He then brought fingers to the protrusion that had already formed where he got hit by the rock. Eager to avoid another barrage he gave the ogre on the driver's seat a signal to hit the pedal and move the trolley along, as far away from the vicious little woman as possible. The engine revved, fumes popping noisily from the exhaustion pipe as it struggled to ride over a mound. It then disappeared amidst a cloud of smoke.

She frowned, leaning back to lounge on the chair. "Had I known they were going to hold one of those stupid little field trips I would have picked a different day to pay the old bastard a visit."

The outer edge of hell may be perfectly safe, yet she still shivered at the notion of setting foot on it. Enma's little administrative troop got to visit the different realms of the other world as a perk of the job, but it always befuddled her that they'd even consider hell as a destination.

She repositioned the cucumbers, and sighed heavily. Waiting. She told herself she wasn't crazy for not only messing with the living, but now also taunting the dead. No matter the outcome of the encounter she was about to have, she would at least come out sporting a brand new tan, the first in several hundred years. Something positive was bound to come from setting foot in hell.

A posh accent, heavily reminiscent of a 1970s documentary, played smoothly in her ears. "The large ape of the mountains of Deebrrish on the east-side of Vegita-sei was a solitary animal by nature so the first encounter between a male and female was often accompanied with much snarling and snapping."

"Guess not much changed through evolution." She scoffed, the green slices staring sightlessly up towards the sun.

"Gradually the pair would move closer, until they stood snout to snout, yet they continued to snarl for a time. Much snorting and foot stamping later, the male watched with disdain as the female presented herself in earnest."

She frowned and her entire face creased. Why the hell was a British narrator recounting space biology from the arcs of the otherworld? Well, slap her wild with an oven mitt.

"The female may smack the male, inflicting quite severe, though superficial, scratches, some of which exacerbate the need for copulation." A series of loud cries and screeches followed and she winced at the sound.

"Feh, monkeys. Can't quiet get to the good stuff without making a royal fuss."

"Old woman. Cease your ramblings or I shall put an end to them myself." She squeaked and snapped to a sitting position, headphones slipping off her ears, cucumbers flying in opposite directions.

Up trailed her eyes, over the figure before her. Curse the day she decided to enter that odious bet. Now her pride forced her to seek out this pompous bastard, all to cover the lost ground. At the moment the hottest couple to grace the galaxy in a millennia scampered across the universe, bitching and moaning to each other. Yet deep down she knew the truth. That girl was crazy and the boy wasn't exactly the model of sanity either. He was rather volatile, often forgoing common sense. It was only a matter of time before they found themselves in a room humping like gorillas. The recording told her so.

"And cover yourself too." He sneered down in disgust. "I do not wish to gaze upon your offending nature."

"Alright, already." The witch spat, pulling down the black robe to cover her stubby legs. "I trust you realize who I am, and who I'm here to talk to you about."

The sound of mating monkeys wormed its way into their ears, the tape still whirring on the device. The figure before her folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes, denoting a slight suspicion as to the woman's motives. "I wouldn't be here otherwise, yet I suggest you tread carefully or you'll regret having the nerve to drag me away from the hellfire that's been my home throughout the years."

"You'll be glad you were allowed to retain your body, believe me. Much has happened since you met your demise, things you couldn't even begin to fathom."

"And what do you possibly stand to gain from allowing me this knowledge?" He remarked so scathingly her blood curdled. "I'd rather loose my corporeal expression than let myself become entangled in your dealings."

"The gods of the mystical realm have taken a keen interest in the affairs of one of your sons, the crown Prince of Vegeta-sei. Don't ask me how. I somehow got caught in it myself." A floating orb appeared seemingly out of nowhere and she came to repose on it so she would look the other in the eye. "Yes, our motives are more than selfish. We like testing people's spirits, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps simply because we can."

The long muscular figure frowned in contemplation, relieving her of the intensity of his gaze and diverting it towards the pond instead. "I didn't doubt he'd survive."

"He more than did, _ou-sama_. He became an expert at it." She added, careful to assess his every nuance. The deep rooted concern was there, etched in the subtle lines of his face. "I can show you the realm of the living, catch you up with what he's been doing." The dignified planes shifted and she immediately knew what he thought. He truly had nothing left to loose. The deal was practically sealed. "Eventually, given the need, I can even let you walk among the creatures of earth, if only for a day. After all, once you know what's become of him, the path he's leading, you're gonna want to do so. Attempt to rearrange the boy a bit."

He lifted an eyebrow, a look of puzzlement in his eye. "Earth? I hope dealing with inferior beings isn't necessary." He supplied with an edge of displeasure.

She nodded, the crystal ball bobbing over the swirling air currents. "Me neither." Her lips lifted into a humorless smile, thinking they may not even make it back to Chikyuu anyway. "Yet it may come to that. A day can change a life, but for now, why don't we just have a chat?"

------------------

They touched down next to the infinity pool of the Royal suit and it was all he could do not to dump her on the ground. All through the flight she'd been wrapped around him, her arms firm as they circled his neck, the mound of her pelvis hard against the tip of his cock. The tilts and dives had sometimes shifted her, creating enough friction between their bodies for it to feel like fore-play. He'd gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he'd chipped a molar, flagellating himself for gifting the girl with some sort of stupid, heart-felt, stroll under the sun. Fucking amazing thing to do for the terror of the seven quadrants. All for a female who wouldn't even sleep with him.

Her gleaming blue eyes had settled on him upon take-off, playing tricks with his mind. She'd then sighed and tucked her head beneath his chin, her breath tickling his Adam's apple. He'd streaked through the sky, nearly desperate, fingers digging on the mound of her ass that was spread because of her straddling position.

She'd started asking questions, wanting to know more about his past, his hopes, his fears. Unsubstantial shit he'd never truly bother to ponder. It served him well for letting her on. He'd growled deep in his throat when she wouldn't shut up, desperate to crush those lips with his own and devour her whole. But he hadn't, he'd only held her tighter, her lips colliding against his throat, the soft part of her womanhood flush against his lower abdomen.

Bulma grabbed unto him as they landed, her heels rocking back from the inertia. "Vegeta!" She pouted, following him inside into the plush pad he called his lair. He truly did remind her of a wolf, every bit as lonely as he was deadly. He'd suddenly become quiet, that air of irreverence draped around him like a shroud.

"All I asked was if you ever had a nanny as a child. I had several, all different models and sizes. You see they were all bots, built by Pappa especially for me. I distinctively liked the Mary Poppins one. She could sing every single song on the soundtrack." Her voice was a tinkling chime as she walked down the steps after him. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes glinting like perfect sapphires. He stopped mid-step and threw her a glance over his shoulder, his brow knotting. "Mary who?"

"Mary Poppins. I'll show you what I'm talking about when we arrive home. It's the story of a magical nanny. Flying umbrellas, dancing penguins…" He winged an eyebrow, something fluttering under his eye. "You might just like it." She added, soft shapely lips drawn into an exquisite smile. Gods, this woman was crazy beyond comprehension. Yet she was insurmountably beautiful, so much so he was sure she'd be even more insufferable if she only knew.

"We'll follow it with another Chikyuu classic, another musical, so you can get the full extended experience. It's about a girl who leaves a monastery to become governess to the children of a widower. I'll treat you to a tubful of popcorn and a gallon of cold chirping coke. " He gave her a nasty glare. She never shut up did she, for the love of hell, was the beauty worth the rambling? He literally couldn't tell if she was messing with him. She was right out of her mind if she thought he'd sit through a film about dancing penguins, then go on to listen to a singing nun. "Oh come on, Vegeta." She said, looking at him with big child-like eyes. The wind had mussed up her hair, giving her an ethereal look. "I'll balance it out with Shaolin Temple. There's only so much singing I can take anyway."

A tight frown creased his brow and a curl of distaste twisted his lips. "I don't think so." He turned to check for any activity on the private channel of his scouter.

Bulma extended her lower lip in another pout, bracing her hands on the back of a lounger. His face had acquired that perennial look of tension it seldom got rid of. It was difficult to fathom how thoroughly exhausting his life must have been, always on the brink of death, always ready for the next big blowup. A little boy raised amidst the jarring sounds of war, when she'd gently been sung lullabies.

He'd barely clicked on the side of the hi-tech device when slender womanly arms surrounded his torso from behind, a sugary breath that reminded him of cherries tickling the base of his neck. She began humming, some form of Chikyuu-jin incantation, of that he was sure. She then went on to whisper something, a bit of hesitation in her voice, like she was struggling to remember long forgotten words. "My heart… my heart wants to beat… like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees..." Her fingers played games with his chest plate, softly calming the beast within. "To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way…. to sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray."

Her mouth moved over his shoulder blade, spreading thin tentacles of riveting pleasure down his spine. He doubted she was even aware of his quandary, the way she crept her way through every pore and haunted his very soul. She was as placid as a lamb lounging leisurely against a wolf. "I sometimes want to feel like a child again, like I did the first time I heard that song at the age of three. To forget about cynicism."

She was melted against his back, the natural fragrance of her coating him whole. She was marking him and she didn't even realize it, dousing him with so many pheromones a Saiyan female would wince and flee at his very presence. When he didn't move, she perched her chin on his shoulder.

"You never answer my question. Did you ever have a nanny?" Her voice was bedroomy, lazy against the side of his neck.

"Something like it." He added tonelessly, fumbling with the scouter yet not truly concentrated.

"And what became of her?" She added, arms still banded over his slender, narrow waist.

"Him." He corrected her curtly.

"Alright, what became of him?" She closed her eyes, a smile pillowed against the slope of his shoulder.

"I killed him."

Bulma's eyes widened but she didn't move, coldness spreading through her veins like rivers of ice. They streamed unhindered, freezing her innards and pooling within her gut. Her arms tightened around him instinctively, determined to not let go. "Well, it happened a long time ago. It's in the past." Her voice seeped quietly forth. She squeezed her eyelids, as if that could make the knowledge disappear.

She clung to him, blindly, burdening him inside to the point he couldn't stand it. "The past is all I've got. It's my present. Every day, every night. Awake and asleep. You can't just run from it. Believe me. I've tried." The last portion slipped unintended and he clamped down his teeth in displeasure. He should put an end to this charade, violate his own word and toss her on his bed, then pound the questions out of her for once and for all. She'd be too busy crying in ecstasy over his hardened shaft. Couldn't she see who he truly was? He wasn't fuckin' prince charming come to save her. He was a soldier, a warrior, a ruthless killer. First and foremost, he was a survivor. He did what it took to keep on living.

"I'm sorry for last night. I wouldn't want to hurt you." Is all she said, her tone soft. He knew she meant the cut.

Vegeta snorted, a smirk redrawing the shape of his lips. "Don't be silly. You might as well have used a toothpick, woman. It's nothing Saiyan genes can't fully regenerate in a manner of hours." He barely remembered the private code he needed to access the private channel, the one his hired informants used to deliver intel through. Her pelvic region pressed against the taut hillocks of his buttocks, shapely thighs pressing into his much more powerful ones.

"Can I ask you something, else?"

He rolled his eyes. On and on with the inquisition. It rivaled the interrogation he'd been put through at eighteen before being tossed into prison.

"You're going to ask anyway." He growled the words, a sense of idiocy hazing up his keen predatory senses.

"Did you just take me out on a date?"

Eyes black as the heart of night shifted, a muscle in his jaw tensing in response. She'd barely spoken when his mouth was already moving out of its own volition, his tone vindictive. "Did you hit your head when I wasn't watching? Just because I'm forced to traipse across the galaxy shopping for trinkets doesn't mean I'm ready to abandon my training regime. You are merely necessary cargo. I can't leave a feeble thing like you alone for too long."

"So that's a yes then." She concluded, grinning and readjusting her face against his shoulder.

A low gurgling sound, that sounded like the beginning of a growl rumbled through his ribcage.

A moment later she breathed, lifting her chin so her lips grazed his earlobe. "I guess I'll have to shower before take off. Your idea of fun left me a little sweaty." He turned his face to the side, eyes seeking hers under heavy lashes. A red light in the scouter flashed intermittently, yet he was fully unaware. She rubbed her nose against his neck, smelling his heat and his sweat, taking in the thick spicy scent of male that made her womb cartwheel.

Bulma closed her eyes, mouth watering in expectation. Dreams of surrender warped her mind, memories of his slackened face against her pillows, regarding her like a big satisfied cat back in Chikyuu. The veil of her lashes fell as she rose on her tiptoes, lips hungry for his.

And that's when it happened. The world did a pirouette and she found her back flat against his front, his gloved hand clamped over her mouth. "MMPHHH!" She attempted to free herself but the effort was futile. He wasn't even paying attention to her anymore, his every muscle tensed like a panther scenting danger, every limb tightened like a coil ready to spring. Her eyes roved around nervously, catching nothing in the eerie silence of the place.

Vegeta's preternatural senses picked up every click, every subtle change in the transparent stitch work of the suite, the stench of living demons reaching him like a putrid odor.

Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribcage, anxious over whatever it was Vegeta was assessing. He was her sole guard against the evils of the universe. Ironically enough, he might be evil incarnate but the heat and energy he emanated became her blanket of comfort, his heartbeat strong and brave in the midst of the hunt. A moment lapsed, him stretching against the walls, peering beneath the door frames with icy calculation. He moved like he'd been cornered before, like he was used to run.

And he was, but he'd always done so by himself. Vegeta felt the cold clammy touch of death vandalize his chest. He'd never had to worry about a female. How could he forget for even a minute the truth of who he was? That moment he saw her on Namek, hiding behind that bald freak he knew she'd only mean trouble. There was a slight creak, imperceptible to anyone without his heightened sense of hearing and there was no doubt just how many invaders prowled around the corners. Too many, and every second was precious.

He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to a counter projecting from a wall. Bulma sensed him closing his every compartment, his face morphing into a cold, expressionless cast. A shiver crawled over her spine, like the slippery feet of a centipede. This was the side she'd never witnessed, the one that had seen a lifetime of never-ending monstrosity and chaos. This was the face of a destroyer, every movement automatic so as not to dwell on the constant tragedy that was his life. Pain lanced through her heart, her chest constricting against her sternum.

He snatched his crystallite card and the ship's capsule and thrust them into her palms, then grabbed her by the shoulders. "Listen to me. Those are your responsibility, everything I gained through a lifetime of glorified slavery to a master I hated. You take it all and no matter, don't turn back. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Bulma blinked up at him, sporting a look of utter stupefaction. He couldn't be sending her away, freeing her of the chains that bound them together. He couldn't.

"I want you heading back to Chikyuu full speed. I want you forgetting I ever existed."


	23. Sentenced to Darkness

AN: My apologies for last chapter's cliffhanger. That was a bit of evilness on my part. Hopefully this piece will make up for it. It's a wild twist but I'm compelled to follow my creative identity, for better or worse. My version of Vegeta haunts me.

Heather Rinehart has created stunning art for this story. Her talent is boundless. Stephanie Reeves surprised me as well with a beautiful, artistic version of Bulma. I've hosted them all on my site. Thanks so much for brightening up my week:

This site doesn't allow for links so I'm writing it out like this.

(www.) geocities (dot) com /vicariousbv/Treasurechest (.html)

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan **

Chapter 23

Step 24 – Sentenced to Darkness

"No!" Her voice held remarkable determination, even through that nearly imperceptible tremor underlining it. The single word echoed between them, sweeping over Vegeta who for once stood rigid and incredulous, his stormy eyes locked in a deadly waltz of wills with her fiery blue ones. She'd grown impossibly pale, yet life poured wild and irreverent through the flicker in her eyes. He could feel the tension mounting in the lithe muscles of her arms, a feral impulse to remain rooted taking hold, feeding of the natural stubbornness that broiled within her.

"That isn't up to you to decide." He countered, painfully aware of the quick and mortifying passage of time. He thought he'd be able to protect her from the darkness of the universe, to guard her like a precious gemstone through the length of the journey. Right here, right now, the best way to do just that was to let her go. She was part of a private life he would never show his enemies, a smooth, luscious paradise only he had a right to. Her hills and valleys were his to tarnish, to bask in, to drink of. They shouldn't be marred by the unseemly hands of another. Having her and them converging on the same plane disturbed him on a level he wouldn't have thought possible.

"It _is_ up to me to decide. I don't care whatever danger's lurking on the side, Vegeta. I won't leave. I won't leave you." She curled her fingers into his biceps, the words firm and coated in urgency. It was a raw plea and an unwavering declaration all in one. Her eyes dared him, even through the unsubstantial strength of her frail human condition, to try and remove her from his side, but he knew better. Her every nuance screamed she wouldn't budge, not if her life depended on it. "Whatever it is, I'll be safe with you. Nothing can reach me as long as you are here to protect me."

Vegeta's grip on her shoulders became stronger. There was something soft and feminine about her need, yet infinitely fierce. His pupils dilated with the instinctive, purely animalistic drive to be everything she professed him to be. His nostrils flared in anticipation, welcoming the scent of the enemy, yearning to tear them apart, kill the whole damn universe for her if he needed to. All this time, he'd longed for much more than just being the master to her lust, he'd secretly harbored the maddening need to be her man. And by the gods, he would, he'd sink his fangs into the devil himself if it meant shielding her from the most sordid side of his life. But he needed her away. To confront his past he required his sharp predatory senses intact, margin to become the lord of war and death he truly was. The risk of imperiling her was dulling his senses. She was a price he truly wasn't willing to pay.

He lowered long dark lashes over dangerous eyes, seeking into her upturned gaze. "Who will protect you from me? Who will save you when I make you mine? I am darkness." He tried discouraging her spirit, yet she stood there, clinging to him by her very nails, her cherry lips firmly pressed and her crystal eyes seeking him out like a savior.

Why wasn't she taking it all and fleeing? She was exquisitely unpredictable. Any other female would have long skedaddled, happy to save her skin and take his money, but not her, not Bulma. She had a chance to remain untouched. He hadn't even succumbed to his cravings and availed himself to the pleasures of her body. Without exacting his vengeance, he'd showered her in a roomful of finery and to top it off, was now granting her his small fortune, the one he'd painstakingly amassed for his own selfish motives. Freedom was hers for the time being. Oh he'd recover what was rightfully his sooner or later. He'd descend upon her like the shadow of evil, but to his unending perplexity, she wasn't taking it.

The distinctive scent of the demons encroached on him, and he knew the window for Bulma's getaway was nearly shutting. He could taste the acrid smell of his enemy on his tongue, seeping like rust down the slope of his throat and into the pit of his stomach. A few more seconds to pop that capsule and rev that engine into maximum speed was all she had. It was now or never as the intruders stalked around the outer walls, busting the codes and slinking around the corners like molten death.

He grabbed her forcibly by the wrists, pinning them together against her ass thus making her arch her back to relieve the pressure between her shoulder blades. His armor, ribbed and hard pressed against the soft material of her blouse, effectively imprisoning her breasts between their bodies. His gravely tones were rough, his clean breath warm wisps of air against her face as he spoke. "Woman, there are things you don't truly understand about my life, things you wouldn't want to become privy to." Even now he wanted her, smack in the face of impending doom. The fact that she looked to him for protection when he had threatened her every in every single way possible, when he was a thousand megaton powerhouse of sheer destruction baffled him beyond comprehension. She was brazen like a wildflower standing her ground against the onslaught of the winds. Her assumptions about him were foolish, but that stark naivety spoke to his manhood with stridence.

"Do not contend with me on this. The universe is not a comfy extension of your Chikyuu-jin palace. It's much worse than I remember. Last I knew, this place remained well beyond lawful jurisdiction, a land free of the policing minions sent by the justice courts to advance their private agendas." He felt the quiver of the air, a ripple of movement hitting him with unmistaken clarity. They were in.

"I've lived under tyranny, campaigned in war with the grime of the universe, but it's in the face of the so-called righteous that I found the most corruption. Frieza's dominion brimmed with evil, but it was readily visible. It didn't lurk like a slithering snake shrouded in deceit." He spoke hurriedly, his strong hands snagging her around the waist and dragging her forcefully towards the open crystal panes. There had never been a chance for him. Once he'd been located, he would be hastily tracked, perhaps placing this loud-mouthed girl he'd staked a claim on, under further unnecessary danger. He'd have to deal them a deadly blow, work his way out of this using real-time tactics. He'd fight his battle alone, harness their full attention while she promptly lifted off. They'd be distracted and she'd be safe, if she only acquiesced.

"No." She wailed in agitation. She turned around in his pinioning arms, becoming a violent mass of limbs that clawed at him without quarter.

He cursed under his breath, manhandling her and straining to see through the aquamarine strands that tossed against his face and got in his eyes.

"If you're giving me my freedom, then I choose to stay." Her voice was a feral rasp, eyes flashing blue flames over round ruddy cheeks.

"Dammit, woman." He snarled, more than irked at her rebelliousness. She bared her white pearly canines, red lips curling in defiance and perspiration breaking over the pallor of her skin. He grabbed her roughly to him, a muscled arm around her waist, then gathered the hair at her nape and pulled back to restrain her. He swallowed in her untamed beauty, drank it whole one last time. Her breasts swelled in agitation, lips begging to be licked and ravished, but time was up for them. He knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Touching." A voice thick in sarcasm seeped its way to them. Vegeta diverted cold, impenetrable eyes at the intruder, releasing Bulma and leading her behind his back. A tall figure stood in the doorway, slowly advancing towards them before coming to a full stop. Three red-black shadows followed, sliding through the angles of the room until they materialized into an uneven array of heavily built demons. Their skin was dark and reddish, their eyes lit in shimmering gold. Jet black glossy hair fell like an ebony veil over their broadened shoulders with the exception of the shortest one who was bald and stout. Their horns all twisted in a different fashion, but their hateful glowering was equally vindictive.

The more imposing one bore a striking resemblance to someone he'd long given any thought to. He was impressively reminiscent of Zarbon except in a palette of blacks and reds. But this creature's beauty was hardened and angry, not serene and immaculate like the reptile's used to be. The demon's eyes were almost snake-like both in appearance and in intent, and his lips twisted into a devious grin drenched in self-pleasure. It was obvious he bastard was enjoying himself.

"I do mean it. I think it's touching. What do you give them Vegeta, that they remain so loyal? I bet you fuck like a God." His venomous eyes never left the prince, blatantly taunting him, but Vegeta didn't catch the bait. Bulma felt the high voltage of his ki rippling around him, charging the air in quiet contempt. He remained calculating, playing a series of chess moves in his mind and assessing the consequences of every action.

"I do remember that was the word on the streets. Or more specifically, the underground corridors of the vessels both you and me inhabited long ago." The demon advanced with an insouciantly casual walk. His smooth oily voice and delicate gait reeked of reptilian, even through the outward demonic appearance. Vegeta narrowed his eyes to slits, a muscle tensing in his jaw. The exterior was certainly a vestige from hell; no doubt remained in his mind. No one else spoke in such a manner.

"Zarbon" Vegeta spilled the word with distaste, his fingers curling individually until they balled into a tight, solid fist. He heard Bulma's slight intake of breath at the mention of the name, and he knew she'd certainly recognized him too. He'd personally driven his arm through his wet, slippery innards in Namek, given him a one-way ticket to Hades, or so he thought. Now he knew there was no limit to the depth of his ambition. He recognized what he'd become. Souls cast to hell could sometimes return to the plane of the living, albeit sporting a demonic semblance. They were the scattered kind of a Lord Dabura, an evil spirit said to have coerced the gods and risen from hell many millennia ago.

Those who knew the legend knew the drill. They formally requested Emma for a chance to rectify their wrongs as living entities, which in Vegeta's opinion was nothing but a load of shit. Then Emma would grant their wish _if_ their conduct in hell had been nothing short of exemplary. The stupid bastard assumed they'd continue the docile behavior in this dimension, often assigning them law-abiding positions such as the one Zarbon obviously held now.

"Zarbon? Death has a way of changing things. Oftentimes, for the better. It's Lord Tallicron to you now, the Demon name bestowed on me amidst the very flames of hell." His words were placid, running of his lips like poisonous honey. He then raked his eyes unashamedly over Vegeta's body. "It'd serve you well to remember it, lest you want me carving it into that smooth tawny perfection you call skin."

Vegeta's upper lip furled in derision, a seething smile for once disarraying his features. "It would serve _you_ well to remember who sent you to there in the first place, you sorry little bitch." His words were drenched in revulsion, scalding in their delivery. The growling threat teased the hairs on the back of Bulma's neck to a standing position and it wasn't even directed at her. "I don't give a fuck what you call yourself now or whose dick you sucked to weasel your way out of hell. All I care about is how you begged for your life when I disemboweled you, how you simpered like a girl for an ounce of my forgiveness. Did hell's fire harm your memory neurons? I killed you once. I can sure do it again."

Bulma caught Zarbon's minions shifting, puzzlement clouding their eyes. Zarbon's expression only darkened. He stared at Vegeta sullenly, his long black nails sliding together as he curled his fingers in response. She was quicker than the demonic lot, who seemed oblivious to their master's long running relation with the Saiyan. Her genius mind had put two and two together the moment Vegeta spoke the name. This was his enemy incarnated, woken from the slumber of death through some glitch in the system. At that knowledge, her stomach curled into a heavy knot of dread.

Zarbon's nose crinkled, his fangs peering as Vegeta continued his scornful speech. "Whose lapdog are you now, Zarbon. Do they feed and clothe you as well as Frieza did? It must pay well to walk around pretending to be something you aren't." He curved a brow in utmost derision, sending the demon into a gurgling fit.

"Prince of bastards." Hissed Zarbon, displeased that Vegeta comported himself so royally with so little effort. His flashy new title and luxurious armor could never rival the true blood of a monarch and that's what the asshole was. "You very well guessed it. It does pay well. It's gonna pay even better to screw you over." Zarbon gathered the edge of the velvet cape that billowed at his calves, emblazoned with the seal of his superiors. His earrings were multiple dangling black pearls that rattled as he moved.

Vegeta only snorted. Yes, he was obviously living the life, his question had been a rhetoric. He was a sneaky courtier that got his kicks by playing informant to his twisted overlords. Excess and obscenity wafted off him like the stench of a rotting corpse.

"But that's enough of your irony. I won't let you suck me into your little game." Zarbon deliberately granted Vegeta a slow Cheshire smile. "This isn't about me. This is about you, beautiful monkey boy. Deep down I do hope you don't take this personal, for you see, I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd have the _pleasure_ of running into you. Alas, it seems you're in disfavor with the Gods. I get stationed here and you just happen to fall into my lap."

Zarbon's sensually charged words threw him back in time. Vegeta fought the shudder that rippled down his spine. It was a kneejerk reaction, something ingrained since childhood. 'Beautiful monkey boy' had been the moniker he'd often employed to debase him, ever since that first horrid day they met. He'd vowed never to show him it affected him, thus he remained stoic, his hard eyes bearing death. Zarbon's subtle threats had never come to fruition, not because he hadn't harbored the physical ability to subdue him, but because to him the chase was infinitely more exquisite than the act.

"Now the universe has rectified its wrongs." He opened his arms wide in a gesture of grandeur, issuing a malicious chuckle that sent Bulma grimacing. "And it's chosen me, the most suitable candidate to do so. It took the courts quiet a while to locate you, yet you must have known it was only a matter of time. The fact the privilege fell on me is merely the icing on the cake. Do you happen to know how aroused this makes me?"

Vegeta flickered his eyes to Zarbon's entourage, already tracing his steps with mental precision. He'd take them out in one clean strike before they could round on Bulma. It would probably take him three moves to neutralize Zarbon, a fourth one to break his ribcage. He'd then rip his heart out and shove it down his sagging mouth. Still, something wasn't quiet right; his animal instinct told him so. He could sense it in the air that the cards hadn't been laid.

"Oh, don't even think about it. I haven't stepped in here carelessly. It's you who failed to cover your ass." Zarbon remarked like a bell tolling for death. Bulma felt fear, thick and icy spread forth from her spine and wrap tightly around her ribcage.

"You were messy Vegeta. You lowered your guard. I don't remember you ever violating such precious rules when we served the same master." His tone was poisonous, dripping with thick tarry hate. Bulma had no problem seeing why. Vegeta had been his executioner. He had taken his life in the most gruesome, goriest way and had done so in front of her very eyes. "I don't even think you're in a position to do much but come to me, like a good obedient monkey."

Vegeta's chest tightened in a bout of self-hatred, hatred for the fact that Zarbon was right. He'd come to that realization the second he found he was being stalked. He'd somehow known the woman would be his demise, one way or another. When she'd lured him into her bed, he'd instinctively known she'd mean nothing but trouble. She wasn't the kind of girl you could just fuck and leave. She was something else. She could make a man lose himself.

He should have killed her before she caused him to err, but she bewitched him with the nectar of her lips and the lilt of her voice. He hadn't lifted off today, reactor in hand like he should have. He could have snuffed out her life as she slept. His white gloved hand had reposed over her neck ready to snap it, urging himself to do so. Instead he'd scooped her away in his arms. He'd risked everything for a morning spent in her light. He should have known the price for wandering away from darkness was always weighed in blood. Now, in this day of unforgivable stupidity, he'd face the consequences.

"Why don't you tell your precious judges I'm much too powerful to bother." Vegeta bit out, stepping right in front of Bulma. Zarbon snorted disdainfully at the pair. Ah, the ol' "Commander of Legions". Frieza's adored little pet. The talk of the crowd, no matter how much of an aloof, withdrawn wretch he was. It always bothered him that he would garner such attention by doing nothing. After all he himself was a right social butterfly, and not once had he enjoyed half his popularity. He couldn't remember anyone who didn't want a piece of him. They either wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Zarbon's eyes lingered on Bulma, completely sidestepping Vegeta's nasty reply. "Well, seems the human's taste has dwindled considerably. She seemed much fonder of Reptilian back in Namek." He commented acidly, noticing the necklace hanging heavily from her neck. His viper eyes turned to Vegeta. "I thought you liked them tough and resilient, not scrawny and weak. I suppose she must give amazing head, but by the gods, my boy, the Rock of Fire?" A dry humorless chuckle followed"…is that an actual Royal Concubine?"

Vegeta shoved Bulma away with a violent move of his arm and prowled towards Zarbon, frankly tired of his shit. He pinned him to the spot with a menacing glower. "Royal property until I got tired of her. The bitch means nothing to me. You're not here to discuss my most recent lay, though, are you? Why the hell don't you just fucking get to the point before I fulfill your death wish, Zarbon. It seems you don't really value life the way you should." Within him something stirred, inside he felt blighted by a nameless burden. He told himself he was doing what needed to be done. There was no other way to save her. She was infinitely his, in body and soul, yet Zarbon shouldn't know the extent of his possession.

Then a strangled sob fled her lips putting him instantly on edge. Something warm and gummy trickled down the curve of his lips, falling soundlessly on the carpeted surface. He drew his hand to his nose. Fat drops of blood dripped from his nostrils repeatedly, also gathering at the back of his throat in a pool of metallic flavor. He wiped his nose angrily against his glove, painting a streak of vibrant red over the white material.

Bulma observed from her position, her heart pounding against her sternum, panic fleeting through her face. She threw an accusatory glance in Zarbon's direction. "Stop what you're doing. Stop it now."

"Silence the whore or I tear her gullet out" Zarbon commented disinterestedly. His eyes focused on Vegeta with morbid fascination.

"You're done talking yourself, for all I care." Vegeta countered viciously, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. His voice was a wet gurgle, blood tainting his white fangs an angry red. He should have ended it already, yet he was having trouble with something as simple as standing. Zarbon's cackle wormed its way through his pounding brain, making the pain nearly unbearable. Whatever it was he was doing, it was leeching off his very core, stifling his ability to harness his ki and use it effectively. The layout of the room blurred and skidded, and Vegeta blinked trying to refocus.

Zarbon made a curt gesture towards one of his helpers, who dashed over and handcuffed Vegeta behind his back with a pair of bright red metal rings.

"Ki-specific technology. Who would have thought such a thing existed, especially in the form of spiffy handcuffs. Remind me to thank you for blindingly leading us to such a marvelous contrabandist." Bulma's lips parted in disbelief. It was like a blow had been rendered to her stomach, pushing all the air out of her lungs in one swift strike. She knew this technology, she'd formulated something similar back on earth. In fact, she'd use it before on Vegeta himself but the potency of her device had been mild. It had been designed to restrain. This on the other hand, had been designed to torture.

Vegeta growled low in his chest at his impotence. His every bone felt like it was being shattered, his knees threatening to buckle under his own weight. Secha, Zarbon's second, pulled him roughly by the cuffs, until he hit the floor sideways. He ended up being dragged along the carpet like a slain beast, thrown at Zarbon's feet in one theatrical gesture. He sneered through his blood stained teeth, his crimson smudged face and chest lending him the appearance of a wild feral creature that had just been hunted. He strained to speak but his stomach revolted, all he could do was hear Zarbon's slippery tongue utter a speech.

Bulma covered her mouth with her sweaty palms, peering at Zarbon through wide pools of blue agitation. "Now girl. You may think me a monster, and I suppose I can't blame you. After all this is quiet the gruesome scenario." His smile widened as he contemplated Bulma, shock still and helpless. "But before you even think about starting some sort of angry tirade, you should hush and reconsider. You should rethink which side you're on. Or has the prince broken your spirit? Has he turned you into a shadow of yourself and scrambled your loyalties?" He deepened his gaze, pinning her to the spot with the intensity of a cobra. "Tell me… has he made you forget the monster he truly is"

Zarbon nodded towards the other demons in the room and they strode forward, one grabbing Vegeta by the arm and hoisting him to his feet. The demon tightened the cuffs, switching its setting to max and sending a bone-splitting impulse of energy coursing through Vegeta's body. He tensed and arched his back, the swell of his chest the only sign that he was experiencing pain.

"You're being placed on death row, my Prince, on eleven counts of genocide, fifty-three counts torture, first degree murder of six royal senate judges, ethnic enslavement under violation of the peace treaties of Kuranik and Gemma, systematic pillaging and execution on all seven regions of this quadrant, multiple counts on three out of four quadrants in this galaxy alone involving looting, theft and extortion." Zarbon snorted maliciously, passionately drawn to Vegeta's deadly glare. He really did look splendid wounded and manacled. He had an eye for beauty and had always revered it in the purest of its forms. His eyes lingered on the prince and his smile slanted. "Now I see. Now I completely understand why Frieza loved having you like this."

Bulma's mind wheeled at the words, a caravan of horrors fleeting through her mind in the span of a second. It was all too much for her to make sense of, the words too terrible to digest. She stopped feeling. Fear gave way to a sense of emptiness and a dull feeling of loss too grand to contemplate.

"Now, you're no foreigner to prison but I'm afraid the drill's changed. See, it seems the chamber doesn't want to run any risks or drag this whole process on unnecessarily." He rolled his eyes dramatically, like power bored him. "Things like due process will only prolong your stay in prison and put off the inevitable." He pulled out a small electronic device that looked like some type of audio transducer. He then leaned in to caress Vegeta's ear with a hateful whisper "Frieza's not around anymore to bail your sorry tail out of prison. Say you're guilty and the execution will take place in a matter of days."

Vegeta drummed up enough blood laced saliva to spit it out at Zarbon's shiny boot, then pressed his teeth together in a haughty gesture of defiance.

Zarbon threaded his lacquered claws through the prince's long threads of hair and pulled his head back to look him in the eye. "And now I understand what you must have given him in the dead of the night. Frieza loved fire, Vegeta. No wonder he loved _you_." Zarbon turned the audio transducer on and thrust it at a demon before stalking over to Bulma and snatching her roughly to him.

"You'd think I would threaten you with slitting her throat, wouldn't you? That I would let blood shower down her chest in some gaudy spectacle worthy of my reputation." His knife-sharp nail danced playfully down the smooth arch of her neck until it reached the valley between her breasts. "But my appreciation for beauty is far too grand, even beauty as feeble as this."

"Nothing. She means nothing." Vegeta croaked. Inside his most savage senses wakened, a creature that thirsted for nothing but blood rousing inside. He wanted to take life, and he wanted it now.

"The female may mean nothing to you." The claw hooked around the royal necklace, fiddling with it and scratching Bulma's delicate skin in the process. A loud pearl of blood erupted, hovering in place before spilling down her skin in defeat. "But I know your pride's a different matter. I distinctly remember how you clung to it through the years, how it shone in your eyes since the very day I met you." Vegeta felt suddenly exhausted, in mind and spirit but his eyes remained violent. He wondered if he'd died back in Namek and never revived and this was hell's morbid idea of punishment. Bulma had been the bait, part of some cosmic joke deliberately played on him to make him believe life was anything other than darkness.

"Nothing ever worked on you. The more we kicked the more like a king you looked, and by the Gods was it annoying. It was maddening to see the arrogance grow in your eyes, every blow only fuelling it further."

Bulma's breath hitched when Zarbon tore the necklace off in one brusque motion, chafing the sensitive skin of her neck in the process. Then long fingers sought behind her blouse and squeezed her right breast painfully.

"Pride's a weakness, Vegeta. It's your biggest flaw. I bet you don't like it when your royal property is touched." Bulma went rigid like a board, the grip of the demon on her body becoming blindingly painful. She breathed harshly, squeezing her eyes in utter disgust. She'd rather die than let him violate her but she was restrained in a way that left no room for movement.

"She must have pleased you quiet well for you to lavish her in gifts the way you have. Oh, I've observed you. I don't think I ever saw you give a woman a second glance, but for this…" His grip on her nipple became cruel, earning him a soul-splitting yelp from the depths of Bulma's throat. "Oh I bet she's the kind to make a filthy bastard like you wish for redemption. Yet both you and I know better. Come on, Vegeta, you're wanted in every region of the galaxy, for fucks sake. Redemption's nothing but a dream to you." Vegeta's pupils narrowed to black pinpoints of hate. The sight of Zarbon putting his god-damned claws on the supple skin of his woman frayed at his very sanity.

Bulma couldn't look Vegeta in the eye. She didn't want to make matters worse by showing him the true measure of her repulsion. Zarbon's touch lacked Vegeta's measured intensity; it had none of his acute precision. He was the only one able to awaken her to rollicking heights of pleasure, every touch as torturous as it was exquisite. Her body knew its master and it would respond only to him.

The Saiyan Prince was an enemy to Chikyuu, but she despised this demonic representation of justice. She didn't want to be Zarbon's pawn nor did she want to be saved by his hand. She'd already gotten used to her fate. Vegeta should exact his vengeance upon her, eat her up, invade and execute her. The right to abuse her was his alone and she fully expected him to one day fulfil his dark promises.

Zarbon twisted her breast brutally once more. "The way I see it, I win either way. You either confess and let me arrest you without a trial, you rotten piece of work, or I have a taste of Chikyuu-jin right before your very eyes. Tasting your princely spoils should be interesting anyway." Vegeta's gaze was fierce and unyielding. He wasn't the same man she'd stood with this morning on the crest of that peak. No. He was someone else. He was death personified.

"You want me to confess?" His growl was unnaturally guttural. It erupted from his humourless grin dripping with blood. "I confess you'll wish you never left hell. I confess I'm going to kill you."

Zarbon's ministrations ceased abruptly. Bulma could feel the tension stiffening his limbs as Vegeta's black promise hung inertly between them. He threw her to the side so she landed in a graceless, boneless heap. He then struggled to wipe the trepidation from his face. Vegeta raised his chin and procured him an impervious stare, one that was oddly unsettling. Zarbon saw his death clearly on those midnight irises, a cold tendril of dread wrapping along his column.

"I got that on recording." Spoke a minion, waking Zarbon up from his trance. "It's a confession alright. It will work. We can edit the bits."

Zarbon clenched his fangs and nodded. He then tore his eyes away from Vegeta's and stalked towards the front door, flipping the heavy folds of his cape over his shoulder as he did. There was an air of apprehension about him, his confidence now unapparent. "Bring the prisoner." He belted. They had trouble moving him from where he was rooted, boots firmly planted on the carpet. Vegeta's remaining strength was unsubstantial in relation to his normal power, but it was still enough to challenge the demons. They shoved until he deigned to move and let himself be taken.

"What should we do with the woman, my Lord?" One of them queried, halting his step to send Bulma an indecent glance. "She's a high-class expensive consort, isn't she?"

Zarbon sent her one long appraising look. "She's not a prisoner, but bring her too. She might just end up enjoying herself more than she thought she would. " The shortest demon leered in response and walked over to Bulma. He lifted her by the arm and pulled her harshly along with him.

The memory of Vegeta's rich baritone voice telling her to leave, demanding she forgot about him haunted her inside. She moved by rote, one hand clutching the Rock of Fire and it's torn chain and the other one the ship's capsule. A quick analysis of the situation told her they wouldn't hold her against her will. For all their depravity and unscrupulous use of force, they seemed to follow a very basic framework of law. That didn't mean they weren't unpredictable and dangerous.

Still, one thought remained. She wasn't a prisoner so she could leave, should she want to. Zarbon's true interest fell on the criminal he'd just apprehended. She, on the other hand, was a gnat in the periphery.

One palm held her vessel, the ticket back home, far away from the horrors of the universe and its unending darkness. The other held the ancient stone of the Saiyans, all that was left of Vegeta's people. It had been torn and had been damaged and it still shone with the pride of an entire civilization.


	24. What I'm Capable Of

**AN: **My honest apologies for the delay. I don't intend on taking so long to update. I'll try to do my best to keep this from happening again.

I just needed to feature a song in this installment. You'll understand why as you read on. Needless to say, it'd be a good idea to listen to it as it goes with a very peculiar scene. I honestly believe that's half the experience right there, so if you have a chance, I urge you to check out a song by NIN, called "Me, I'm Not" from the album Year Zero. It was chosen both for the music and the lyrics. You can listen to it at the following address: http:// www. goear. com /listen/3cc3728/Me-Im-Not-Nine-Inch-Nails . (Eliminate the blank spaces I've added to this link. I had to write it that way or this site wouldn't feature the address).

I realize this story has an AU flavor, as it takes the characters out of the more traditional three year context and thoroughly explores their past and motives. It's distinctly divided into two parts, the first one related to Bulma's territory and the second one to Vegeta's. I find Vegeta's side to be particularly exquisite to explore, which is why we're spending so many chapters in space. I hope its okay with you guys. I also assure you I'm keeping track of all the lose ends and will tie them accordingly. I can clearly map my way to the finish line at this point.

Last but not least, I want to thank you all for your loving support (and for the constant nudging to update).

**Warning: **References to child abuse in this chapter plus adult subject matter. Read at your own discretion.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 24

Step 25 - What I'm Capable Of

He remembered the ice, white and biting like the fangs of a viper as it covered the ramified cracks of the alien ground. It melted to sludge under the heavy boots of the soldiers and turned crimson with the blood of a thousand deaths. The freezing touch burnt his cheeks to a deeper hue of bronze, turning his hair into an unruly mass that glittered with frost. He remembered seeing everything happen from his place atop the crest of the jagged hilltop, his scarlet cape tossing violently in the wind. The drafts beat upon his body with the same intensity the army he led employed on its victims, and it held no quarter all the same.

He appraised the sea of warring creatures, his face austere and his heart unfeeling. His nostrils flared to better scent the carnage, to welcome the certainty it brought of victory and power. It was indelible proof of his universe, of an elaborate food chain where the strong prevailed and the weak perished. He welcomed that reality and let its clammy presence comfort him, regarding it as the only constant in his dangerous life.

A siren echoed from afar, the wind faithfully carrying its lament. It sounded like a wounded beast, but it signaled a successful campaign, another victory secured by his iron hand. The long metallic note resounded in his chest, feeding the black void that stood in place of his heart.

"Prince Vegeta." He threw his gaze over his shoulder at the sound of his name. A boy, a lower ranked soldier also outfitted in Ice-jin armor timidly crept into his line of sight. Vegeta shifted to face him, allowing the drizzling landscape of Selari V to become his personal backdrop. Flashes of fire from behind Vegeta reflected on the boy's eyes, but the prince saw more than that in the round shiny pupils. He saw fear.

The soldier raised his chin at his commander, drudging up a tenuous kind of courage. "Sir, the entirety of the populated continents has been exterminated in accordance to your instructions. The planet has been rendered lifeless and is now fully secure." He spoke among the gravid sounds of war and the rustling sound of Vegeta's cape and despite the positive character of his speech, his complexion grew visible pale, almost purplish around his dry, cracked lips.

Vegeta lifted an eye up at the Ice-jin battleships that hovered high in the skies and watched down on them. They floated among the parting clouds reassuringly, round luminous cities made of chrome and steel. Vivid lights beckoned them home promising a meal and a bed after endless days of continuous fighting. They'd return carrying a charred armor and a crushing victory, then lay the tally of the dead before Lord Frieza as he regally sat upon his frosty dais.

"Regroup and prepare for take off." He dictated, his voice grave with iron-like authority. He'd already turned in dismissal of the soldier when he noticed the boy wasn't moving, not even under the compelling command of his superior.

"My Lord…" He unsteadily began. Vegeta's gaze became chilling, a sudden sense of dread turning his Saiyan bones to lead. That day he hadn't fought as much as he'd directed, but he felt exhausted all the same, tired well beyond his flesh. It'd been the hundredth purge, the millionth order carried out with marvelous precision, all to the glory of his callous master.

A moment of hesitation and the boy briskly bowed "….My Lord there were Saiyans among the casualties, an entire colony of about three hundred individuals. We found them in the southern continent and were able to identify their race with our portable scanners. Most died carbonized under the fire of the empire's laser steel-birds, the rest, the women and children, were found huddled by the dozen, asphyxiated in their underground dwellings." The boy remained bowing, staring fixedly at the wet, frozen ground and offering his neck to Vegeta in utmost resignation.

Time stretched on but Vegeta didn't say a word. He merely stared down at the boy, replaying the words over and over in his mind. The soldier waited for death to come and sweep him away, but the merciless blow never came. "Saiyans." Vegeta echoed, a dull, hollow ring to his baritone voice. His agile mind quickly found a cause for the presence of his people. He pieced the puzzle together with excruciating ease. They must have been the last off-world mission, a group that arrived and settled the place before the extinction of Vegeta-sei. They'd somehow fallen under Frieza's radar, something that wasn't hard to believe considering his extensive network of informants.

Vegeta's jet black eyes roved unseeing over the vast horizon, never staying in one single spot for long. He aimlessly traced the craggy outline of the snowy peaks, lost for one infinite moment of blinding darkness. A single breath escaped him, his face as lifeless as the landscape around him.

The lizard king had made sure to exterminate them by sending his very best. He'd cast on them his army of elites, led by the best commander. Him. Frieza had sent him upon his own kin like an angel of death, having him cannibalize on the remnants of his race without even knowing.

He turned a deaf ear to the thundering storms inside him and tamped down the wrath of his demons. "Prepare for take off." Vegeta repeated as though he hadn't heard the soldier. There wasn't an inkling of an expression as he spoke, not an emotion etched in the hard lines of his face. He only listened to the war die down on the battlefield below knowing the last of the planet had gotten annihilated.

He'd kept quiet about Selaris V for the rest of his life, not mentioning the matter to anyone. He faced Frieza as though nothing had happened but they looked each other in the eye knowing the perverse truth. Vegeta was explosive from birth, but he recognized defeat when he saw it, had learned to gaze into its reptilian eyes since the age of eight. So he carried the truth of having murdered the last of his meager kingdom deep beneath his sternum, sunk into his bones like a rusty blade.

And since that faraway day he'd never reached back to the memory. Not until today.

Vegeta rolled his red rimmed eyes back in his skull, his heavy breathing echoing on the metal walls of his prison. He was swamped in memories, each one more brutal than the other. His wrists remained locked together behind his back, firmly bound by the red-glowing cuffs that in turn were chained to the wall. That was the main means he had to support his body, as every ounce of energy had left him many breaths ago.

His upper body dipped over, skin damp in a blazing fever. His cold breath condensed before his eyes and slowly wafted away, making him confuse the past with the present. He couldn't tell if he'd never actually left that icy peak, if time had somehow ceased that day. He felt every bit as frozen, his bones as though they'd split in half if he only moved. Had he actually died amidst the smoldering ruins of that god-forsaken planet? Had everything from that point on been part of some hellish punishment?

How long? How many days, months, years, had the manacles drained the life from his body with unrelenting precision? How many battles was he going to relive before death came forth to release him? He would almost welcome it, but it avoided him entirely, taunting him with promises of freedom and playfully floating beyond his grasp.

The tinkling sound of a drop of blood shifted his drifting mind to the present and he looked at his reflection on a dark pool beneath him. His nostrils were clotted with gore that he couldn't wipe, his boots planted on the slippery mess. Thirst maddened him, the coppery flavor of his own blood a poor substitute to the crystalline waters he'd found in Chikyuu. They'd always fascinated him, crisp like untainted rain, pure like a god sent gift, but it was their infinite blue that mostly held him. The oceans reminded him of her eyes, of how they looked when she wakened and the morning sun reflected on them. He remembered the times he held her hair in his fist and buried his nose in it, scenting the freshness of the seas.

Vegeta's lungs strained as the manacles sent a nerve-zinging spasm through his muscles, bending him forward. She was gone, irrevocably lost from his life, like the last remnant of Vegeta-sei that day so long ago.

He snarled. She was better off without him anyway. He'd been the cruelest victimizer by birth and by decree and the innocence of her heart couldn't possibly allow them to be a match. A day for them would come, in this life or the other. He'd claw his way out from the bowels of hell itself if that's what it took. He'd drag his demonic self up to the very gates of heaven, defy the laws of nature just to see her, to finally have her again.

She'd wash away the smell of death with her palms. She'd help him feel clean if only for a moment, the stench of his corpses swept away by her natural fragrance.

His musings of her blanketed him, gently sedating him into much needed sleep but the effect was cut short. He felt a second wave of energy ripple forth from the handcuffs and zap through his muscles like a blade of fire. His flesh contracted as the current reached his chest, nearly breaking it in half. His red-stained canines rattled before clenching shut, his body heaving and doubling up. Blood rushed up his throat and dripped down the corner of his mouth, the gummy threads falling to the floor. Gods, he couldn't sleep. Every time he tried he was ruthlessly woken. He was Saiyan. His kind was born to rise from the flames of suffering, but no food or sleep was pushing him close to a humiliating demise. One minute, one single moment of sleep is all he desperately needed. All he'd kill for.

It may seem like little, but sleep had been the only thing that'd stopped him from using his fangs against his veins last time he'd been in prison. Countless months of deafening silence, pitch black darkness and perfect isolation had frayed at his mind. So he'd started chewing on his wrists like the troubled cub he'd been, barely avoiding the life-sustaining vein, but mindful about it. One day, though, everything had changed. He'd almost lost it, breath caught in his throat as they opened a trap door above and dumped a squirming load of leeches on him. He couldn't see them but he could feel them, wriggling all over him and searching for a place to sink their fangs in. He hated the worm-like things, couldn't stand anything like them from that day on. He'd avoided yelping, instead choosing to clamp his teeth on his wrist in deep seated panic. One second before slashing, one single breath before the vein ruptured, he'd collapsed. That's how they'd found him several days later, the morning they'd dragged him out of the darkness after Frieza paid the bail.

"Do you think he'll die soon?"

He heard an eerie whisper and followed the shadows that crawled like living creatures over the four metal walls. They shifted through faint pools of blueish light until they reached a shadowy corner. Two sets of glowing eyes peered at him from the dark and he instinctively knew the fever was making him hallucinate. The side of their faces visible under the light was scarred and deformed, the skin molten against their very bones. The monstrous faces remained unmoving, but the sounds of multiple whispers rose until it filled the room.

Vegeta pulled against his restraints by instinct alone, knowing all along it'd be futile. The creatures stretched their bony limbs and crawled over to him, dragging themselves like souls desperate for revenge.

"Will he die soon?" The second creature repeated, eying the manacled prince like a hungry scavenger. Vegeta reared his head back in disgust, witnessing them slide on their bellies and badly twisted limbs. Knowing they weren't real wasn't doing much to appease him.

"Do you remember us Prince? The unborn children of the pregnant women killed under your command?"

Vegeta tensed his jaw in defiance and tugged at his chains, his boots unstable on the gore-splattered floor.

"Do you remember the abortions you caused? The cries of your own people when they died by your own hand?" The whispers rose one above the other but the creatures' lips remained fixed in a savage leer.

"Disgrace."

"Accursed."

Their hisses elevated into a screech and his knees nearly gave away under the shrillness of the sound. It threatened to break his already flaking sanity, nearly bursting his eardrums. He struggled to remain upright, but the only thing supporting him was his tether to the wall. Fuck, they were only a concoction of his mind, they couldn't touch him, they couldn't hurt him. How could a Saiyan prince die a victim of his very mind?

The apparitions diffused into multiple tendrils of fog, the icy ends reaching out to touch and envelope him. He felt a ripple of pure death creep up his spine nearly robbing him of life.

"Second best. Prince of nothing. Your every breath is a failure."

The souls begun to wail, their cries long and inconsolable. They wept for the life he'd stolen from them, demanding he save them and spare them another day in penance. But he couldn't, just as he hadn't been able to save himself when he was only a child. He shook his head, stomach doubling when a forbidden door in his mind creaked and opened.

As a child he'd looked up to the most powerful man he knew, the emperor of the galaxy. It almost didn't matter that his world had disappeared as long as he got to follow his lead and blow up planets in the process. It didn't register that that same man had seized him from his Saiyan throne, from the tutors, trainers and luxuries he'd been swaddled in since birth. He was the bodily presence of power, something to aspire to. So after everything and everyone was gone, he'd fully accepted Frieza in his life.

Many evenings he'd lifted eight year old eyes to him as they sat in privacy, not truly understanding what it was they did while alone, but allowing it to happen all the same. The ice lord wasn't anatomically compatible with Saiyans, and even if he had been, he wouldn't have debased himself to copulate with one. But his perfect androgyny still flourished in Vegeta's presence. He almost comported himself like a woman as he offered pleasure with his hand. Arlian wine and focalized caresses got the young Saiyan body reacting every time, his physiology working like any preteen boy's would. But he wouldn't say a word as Frieza touched him to the point of spasms. He just lied there, covering his burning face with an arm.

Vegeta would find himself walking around the vessel, punching walls and striking objects like a violent cub. He was always angry and disturbingly erect but not truly understanding why. His bodyguard turned his face away from the tortured child, ignoring the glaring problem and choosing to bury himself in his own brooding thoughts.

"Bitchling." Soldiers called him. "Gonna grow up to be queer empress of the ice-jin empire." He memorized the faces of those that verbally attacked him, developing a kill list well before he even knew what sex was. When he turned eleven and hormones wreaked havoc in his brain he made them eat their own words. He cracked their skulls and slashed their jugular with psychopathic glee.

Puberty turned him into an uncontrollable adolescent, much too buck wild for his master's private time and patience. The emperor was now content with merely appreciating his enlarging muscles, glad to keep him on an invisible leash like an exotic and beautiful beast. To Frieza, Vegeta was invariably his, a man to tickle his female side, a prisoner for life. No sodomy was ever necessary to prove that point.

And so, deeply involved with all sorts of scum, time passed and the teenage prince forwent his royal education to learn the vices of space. He begun killing like a bastard and fucking like one too. Those beautiful whores and morbid sluts he bed had absolutely no problem with it. They didn't seem to care that he was well fucked up. No one had until Bulma. She was far too complicated that woman.

His crumbling mind, heavily twisted from the high fever, left the memories of space to return to her. Lately it was always her at the center of it all. She was a rarity in his world, more than enough to sit and contemplate forever. In his mind she was tending roses, basked in the hazy light of Chikyuu's yellow sun. Her hair was an ethereal cloud of gossamer curls, her eyes a pair of sparkling sapphires. She buried hands in the rose garden, parting emerald stems and weeping petals with her gentle touch. He smiled unaware, reliving the memory as his head hung low. She went about her business in slow motion, not knowing she was being watched; watched with single-minded intensity as he leaned against a tree in the shadows.

He'd wanted to kill her pussy so badly. He'd wanted to see what good girl tasted like, then found he simply couldn't get enough.

****************************************

She became aware of the sibilant sounds of women talking well before she'd fully woken. Their voice tinkled in her mind like bells chiming from a distance, the murmur as hushed as a hidden river. She rolled her tongue in her mouth with pained difficulty, eyes drifting open in clear defiance of her instincts. They warned against the pain and agonies of reality, urging her to sink back into the relative safety of unconsciousness. She struggled to do so, to escape the sordid procession her life had become, but the ruthless claws of awareness reached down and shook her like a rag doll. And then the pain made itself present, dull and heavy as it sprung forth from her temple.

The almost melodious chatter became clearer, dispelling some of the fog from her mind and firmly anchoring her in the present. Slender figures came into focus in Bulma's parting eyes as she groggily levered herself on an arm. She felt like she was bearing the mother of all hangovers and had to pause in mid motion lest her brain exploded into a splattering spectacle worthy of a horror movie.

Several females were gathered around the room, clad in sensually riveting clothes and fully ignoring her as they lounged across the carpet and ample couches. The shimmery gauzes and avant-garde cuts were highly stylizing, and she would have been pleased to linger on the designs if she only didn't feel like a Mack truck had run her over.

She purposefully tuned out the alien version of a Vogue editorial spread and timidly reached out to touch her aching temple. The stinging pain that broke at her fingertips kick started her neurons and memories slammed into her head at once, allowing her to relive the details that led to her concussion and apparent loss of consciousness.

Zarbon had brought both her and Vegeta to a hidden base in the furthest region of the planet, a place were vast rolling oceans gave way to thirsty desert land. The structure lay nestled between mountains so tall they seemed to hunker over it ominously, no signs of civilization visible in the immediate vicinity.

Upon entering, Zarbon and his second had quickly started through a different hallway, dragging Vegeta along with them like a lowlife prisoner. Before she even had a chance to react, a massive guard had seized her by the waist and forcibly hauled her in the opposite direction, no manner of resistance proving useful. She'd pounded the brute with what strength she could muster, clamoring for a chance to talk to Zarbon, but she was merely a girl against the hulking mass of muscle.

"If you don't let me go, I'll make sure you end up picking up your own fucking balls from the floor by the time this is over. He's going to kill you, you hear me? He's going to make you sorry you even laid a hand on me." The guard only snickered in derision, tossing her over his shoulder. "Take me back to Zarbon." She snapped, swallowing up the fear she prayed didn't show in her eyes.

The meaty guard laughed. "I doubt you'll have much luck here, you scrawny creature. You may find someone willing to give you a few crystallite drops for your services if you sell yourself well, but I wouldn't count on it. You've got way too much competition."

Bulma widened her gaze, staring at her captor in astonishment. "What the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying I wouldn't spend a single credit on a bitch as pale, weak and thin as you are. You'd probably break after the first thrust."

Her jaw dropped in utter indignation. She wasn't sure if she was more offended at being so carelessly carried like a sack of potatoes or at the implications that she was there to sell herself to the entire base.

"I'm not a fucking prostitute you asshole. I'm daughter to the president of a multi-billion zeni corporation. I'm a lady."

"Oh yeah, they all think they are." That's the last thing she remembered before the edge of his hand connected with her head and sent her neck back like it was made out of playdoh. The lights of the ceiling skidded over to black and she drowned into a sea of darkness.

Bulma grimaced tiredly, going back to perusing her surroundings and recognizing the place for some sort of public boudoir, a room for girls of every possible taste to stay in while visiting the base. Her mind registered the awfulness of her current situation. She was nothing but another girl here, no money, name or looks to aid her.

A glint of metal flashed, catching her attention immediately. She focused on a girl who sat across from her. She was turning a knife in her hand and smiling in admiration, her fingers grazing the length of the blade with a touch so smooth it was almost sexual. After lingering on it for a while she offered it to a second observer, a young brunette who edged closer on the couch to also caress the ornate steel.

And it hit her like a cannonball. Bulma's eyes widened as she recognized the object they so intimately admired. It was the exact same dagger she'd found in Vegeta's suite, the charcoal steel of the blade every bit as pure, the gleaming edge just as deadly. Every doubt she could have had promptly disappeared when she noticed the bright red rubies encrusted on the grip. They shone the color of blood, staring menacingly from the eyes of an engraved Ozaru.

She instantly and without thought dashed forward, her legs unsteady but moving out of their own accord. The movement had her brain reeling in protest but her eyes focused on the dagger with manic intensity. All she could think of was how the real-life dolls so casually fondled Vegeta's…. Vegeta's lethal, one of a kind, absolutely riveting, powerful knife. They were practically licking it, for crying out loud! Where had they found it anyway? It belonged to her. Well it belonged to her owner. **Its.** Its owner.

She crossed over to the offenders and swung her palm to snatch the dagger away, then stood there glowering at the astonished brunette. The alien pupils erupted to wild fire and raked over Bulma in annoyance, but the heiress valiantly, or stupidly, she didn't really know which, stood her ground.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you whore?" Bulma spat, amazed at how ugly her voice sounded. It was nearly as terrible as the state of her clothes. Lying unconscious had wreaked havoc on her vocal chords and her normally well kept appearance.

Who was she kidding. Ever since eloping with the prince she'd walked around looking like a brawler. That line of thought did nothing but kindle her ire, sanity rupturing the seams of her mind. She'd just about had it. She was a tired, hungry, badly beaten, sexually frustrated bitch. She was in such a foul mood, a bad case of PMS was a joy ride by comparison. She couldn't sleep with the man she wanted, she didn't even know where he was, and even if she did she was bound to keep "chaste" by some stupid promise she'd made at her most spoiled. Chaste sounded ridiculous to her, considering how he'd repeatedly fucked her, but she hadn't been ready to admit that back then. Well, if she couldn't have him then no one else could. And for what it was worth, she sure as hell wasn't going to let some other whore touch his dagger.

"What do you mean what am I doing, you freak of nature, puny ass, bony backwater planet bitch?" The nymphet answered, clawing at the armrest of the couch and sending Bulma a hateful glare. "Give that back."

Bulma's pounding brain prevented her from resorting to physical violence. "Did you happen to find it and do shit to claim it? Do you always play with stuff that isn't yours? I swear you'll never have it. You can pry it from my lifeless body." Her blood could just as well have been nitroglycerine, she was so tense. She was on the verge of fully exploding. She'd never felt so overtaken with instinct, in fact, she'd never been involved in a fight, yet here she was, acting street and courting a second blow to the head. If her mother could see her, she'd probably suffer an apoplexy.

The girl reclaimed the coveted knife in one swift motion that threw Bulma off balance. "We happened to spot it lying around. The guards went on a looting rampage around two days ago." She turned big cat eyes to the knife and gave it a devilish smile. "They say it belongs to a prince. I happen to think it's fascinatingly sexy."

Bulma's words got stuck in her throat and she gawked at the woman in contempt. The chocolate-haired girl slid a long reptilian tail out from behind her and started lazily wagging it. "So sexy it almost makes me wet."

Bulma didn't know what happened to her. One minute she was hanging from the fine tether of reason and the next she was bitch slapping the offender with narrow-minded intent. The alien defended herself effortlessly even though Bulma wanted to kill something, claw out its heart and stab it to death. In the end the girl gave Bulma one single lip-splitting slap that sent her tumbling back and bouncing harshly against the chrome wall. Bulma's brain throbbed in agony but her personal misery quickly waned when she noticed the knife in her hand. She'd managed to retrieve it and that to her, was all that truly mattered.

She slouched against the wall and pressed knuckles to her heaving stomach. Her hair fell over her face, frizzed up to individual threads that fluttered against her lips. The rest of the women watched the events dispassionately, barely lifting their gaze from their casual activities. They seemed a lot more interested in trying on clothes or gambling.

"Why do you want it so much?" Questioned her enemy, and for the first time Bulma had a chance to really look at her. The girl was much younger but infinitely stronger. There was no question she and the rest had the chops to survive in this hellish world. She actually looked like she could turn her to ribbons. But the physical strength and classic beauty they all possessed couldn't disguise the emptiness in their eyes or the absolute absence of a soul in their cold demeanor.

"You know him, don't you. The owner." The girl continued, anger subsiding as a tinge of jealousy crept over her features.

Bulma found her chance to diffuse the tension. Instead of answering she posed a rather important question. "How long have I been out?"

The girl next to the brunette, a red-hair who'd witnessed the skirmish, curled a finger around a ponytail and smiled. "Three days. Do you honestly know him? It's such a pity he's imprisoned."

Bulma rolled her eyes in exasperation. They were like hounding dogs. They could probably scent Vegeta's musk all the way to here or something. Aliens seemed to have a potent sense of smell. The sooner she got them out of here the better. She couldn't believe she'd been passed out for three days straight but she could surely feel the consequences through her body. She felt like a shower and a bottleful of aspirins, or a long day at a spa attempting to look like a woman and not something the cat dragged in.

"Listen…" Bulma made a conscious attempt to soften up her tone and even out her breathing. She wasn't going to find Vegeta if she didn't use every ounce of aplomb she could gather. "I'm sorry we got off on a wrong foot." She skillfully masked her displeasure at having to befriend them. The image of them smothering Vegeta's family jewels was still fresh in her mind. "I really need to talk to Lord…" Bulma frowned, trying to retrieve Zarbon's demon name from her jumbled mind. "Tallicron. Lord Tallicron. Could you please take me to him?" The girl with the ponytail erupted in laughter but quickly regained her composure when she noticed Bulma's deadpan face.

"Oh, you're not joking."

"Are you insane? We can't talk, to Lord Tallicron. We can't even _see_ him, other than at the base's late night lounge." The other one chimed in, talking like it was the most obvious thing in the world and making Bulma feel like an idiot. "That's not even on this side of the compound. It's on the main building and we're only allowed in that area of the base during working nights."

"You're forgetting the most important thing." The first one interrupted. "He's a lot more into boys than girls, and you wouldn't be enough to interest him."

Bulma shifted eyes from one to the other in despondency. Vegeta's high-security containment unit was on that main building, she remembered it well from when they landed. She'd bet her Bugatti he was guarded by high tech and monstrously powerful guards. The base was a high security jail for dangerous criminals, blacklisted individuals who wouldn't work to the benefit of some powerful, cosmic rulers. "Working nights? What do you mean by that?"

Deep chocolate eyes blinked at her incredulously. "Who are you and what are you doing here if you don't even know what a working night is? Fucking for crystallite, that is. We're entertainment for men. The guards, spies, friends and soldiers of Tallicron have enough on them to pay a fortune if they happen to want you." At that Bulma's mind wheeled, trying to concoct a plan. She brought her hand to her bosom, making sure Vegeta's own transact card along with the capsulated ship that contained her clothes and the reactor remained secure in the valley of her breasts.

"I know this sounds crazy, but I've got to get to Zarbon. Are you allowed in tonight?" She needed to manipulate Zarbon to her advantage, to twine his brain around her finger whatever it took. She may be lacking the power her heiress title usually provided, but she had her brains to make up for the loss. Kami knew a girl could deceive like no other.

Bulma looked at them, waiting on bated breath for an answer. Vegeta could be executed any day now, any minute. She'd been stupid enough to lose valuable time by letting herself get knocked out cold.

She had one chance to see his face again, to try and give him the opportunity to pull free from his confines. She was familiar with the technology they were using against him so there was a chance she could revert it but the clock ticked in her mind like a somber march of death.

One of the girls finally spoke in a lackadaisical tone. "You shouldn't bother showing up, but there's a clothes configuring machine at the back of the room. I suppose you're able to use it." Bulma didn't care about the brunette's derision. She was already busy tiptoeing around the girls on the carpet and making her way to the backrooms.

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The lounge bustled with activity, smoke hazing up the pools of light that dappled the area. Customers drank to the night, women in nothing but shimmering rhinestones capturing their attention as they danced atop a sleek platform.

Bulma peeked at the lavish area from behind taffeta drapes and bit her glossy red lip. She'd been out in the night to a pretty exclusive location with Vegeta before but this place reeked with a deeper kind of malevolence. She pulled on the hem of her stretch blue mini dress in an attempt to conceal a fraction of her thighs but the shimmering lamé clung to her bottom stubbornly, leaving her legs fully exposed.

She stepped out over a central strip that stretched ahead and divided the area, heart racing in her ears and sweat breaking over her body. She waited in the dark, scanning the crowd like a marshal did a battlefield. Somewhere in that dangerous ocean of twisted creatures Zarbon was seated, surrounded by security and ensconced in a halo of power no girl would think to threaten.

Her stomach tightened to a knot when the musical piece that was playing trailed off to silence and the rest of the girls rushed past her to the backrooms. The manager of the lounge had agreed to let her on the main platform but not without major persuasion. He'd been adamant about a non-nude act, no matter how exotic her coloring and features. He'd finally acquiesced when she'd untied her coat and revealed how the jewel blue ensemble conformed to her body. There'd been stark appreciation in his eyes and she knew the battle was won.

She was by far the most clothed woman on the premise but that didn't make parading herself before a roomful of underworld capos any easier. However the dark rhythm of drums swallowed up her fears as she slowly walked down the platform, one foot gracefully in front of the other. She stepped to the edge of the walkway and a shower of light infused her figure, leaving the rest of the place covered in a mantle of midnight.

She could feel the audience's eyes on her, devouring her every contour. Her dress glimmered the way the sea did during nights of full moon, perfectly matching the color of her eyes and the waves of hair that tumbled down her back. She didn't have the talent to sing or to do many other things for that matter, but there was something she'd always been known for. She could really dance.

She sensuously swept a strand of her hair away from her dampened forehead, her body moving in a slow torturous way to the cadence of the music.

_well it's happening  
never planned on this  
you've got something I need  
kind of dangerous  
and I'm losing control  
I'm not used to this  
what you want from me  
I'm not used to this_

A string of gasps unraveled as she bravely stepped down from the platform to the sitting area, something clearly prohibited by the establishment's rules. That's when she met the golden flash of Zarbon's gaze and allowed the subtlest of smiles across her face. She held the crowd in her delicate grasp, her moves rather subdued as she sauntered forward letting the music dictate her pace.

She slid unto a table brazenly, swiping drinks to the floor with an arm. Dozens of eyes witnessed enthralled as she knelt on the surface with serpentine grace, their pupils nearly electrifying. She felt like she was dancing for her life, deeply aware that she had one shot to gather Zarbon's attention. She tossed her hair over her shoulder with no effort, her movements so leisurely she could have been dancing in the privacy of her own living room. She moved to sit on her bottom, bracing her weight on her forearms and throwing her head back to offer her neck to the night. Her hair fell to the table like a glimmering waterfall as the potent waves of the song washed over her, caressing her like a lover.

_I can't shut it off  
this thing I've begun  
and it's hard to tell  
just where it's coming from  
and it's hard to see  
what I'm capable of  
and it's hard to believe  
just, what I've become_

She sparkled in the dark like a fallen goddess, a creature of unmatched grace that walked the mortal plane if only for a night. Her demureness was more enticing than nudity, her eyes fierce as she turned over and slid off the table to step back on the carpet. She flicked her hair as she sauntered forward, relieved to find that Zarbon was every bit as attentive to her as the rest of the men.

Not a single inch of her body remained dry of sweat as she continued to slide against the chairs, speaking a fluid language of passion. She lightly grazed a customer's shoulder, not once releasing Zarbon's eyes, then threw her hair over her face as she touched a second man. She advanced almost imperceptibly, knowing Zarbon preferred men, but had an eye for beauty and provocation. There was a glow in his eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips, like he liked to see his suspicions proven. To him she was sellable merchandise, perfectly pretty but utterly harmless.

He mistook her passion for greed, but all she could think of was Vegeta. She threw the fears and the consequences of her actions away, remembering him, his burning touch and possessive grab, and how it felt to be loved by him all night long.

He was her unlikely hero, a perfect lover spun out of her darkest fantasies. Strong, and led by honor even if his sense of right and wrong was a product of a twisted past. He was everything everyone else in this room could never be.

It was his hands that skimmed her as she smoothed them down the flat plane of her stomach, his lips that tasted her as she swept her tongue over reddened lips. Zarbon's bodyguard's shifted in their seats, scenting the danger she spun with her every move but Zarbon stuck out a hand to stop them.

She fell in a bottomless abyss where lust reigned over reason, where both her spirit and Vegeta's united through space and time. She knew she was casting herself away from salvation, but she'd sacrifice her colorless life for a single night in his bed, for a taste of the heaven only he could give her. She'd betray her world, her friends, even herself if he only held her in his arms, if he swept her away to a land of blinding pleasure. She was destined to thirst for him, his lips the sole purveyors of much needed life.

_  
me….I'm not._

_I can swallow it down  
keep it all inside  
I define myself  
by how well I hide  
I feel it coming apart  
well, at least I tried_

She was right in front of the reptilian turned demon, sifting fingers up through her silken strands before bringing them down. She looked down at Zarbon, no trace of weakness in her eyes. He rose to his feet and slowly came around to meet her, his angular eyes dissecting her in an attempt to decipher her motives. He was thoroughly fascinated by her. She could put his entire security detail to shame in terms of courage and that was enough to garner his attention.

_I can win this war  
by knowing not to fight  
if I take it all back  
someway, somehow  
if I knew back then  
what I know right now…_

A strand of hair fell across her parted lips as the music ebbed away to a heavy silence. She stood before Zarbon, fully expectant like the rest of the crowd.

"Vegeta must have paid a fortune for you." Zarbon commented, the security guards hanging on to his every word and utterly puzzled by the mind-blowing display. "And I guess I can't blame him."

"He no longer owns me, does he?" She artfully smiled, her breathing slowly calming.

"What is it you want?" Zarbon stated firmly, rather intrigued by her brazen attitude.

Bulma looked him over like the response should be obvious. "He's vowed to blow my world to cinders, enslave me and my kin. I want to make sure he doesn't get a chance to. I want you to let me see him die."

Zarbon held her gaze, imagining the sight himself and experiencing an automatic high. Vegeta had wronged him, taken his life and damned him to the horrors of hell. Everyone knew the prince was a bastard. It wasn't hard to understand her thirst for revenge or pass that aquamarine flame in her eyes as hatred. And all in all, he would pay to see Vegeta's expression as his loyal concubine turned on him like a viper and helped extinguish his miserable Saiyan life. It practically made him giddy.

The golden irises of Zarbon's demon eyes slid over Bulma's heavily exposed flesh, flushing it further. He appraised her heavy cleavage and bare legs, a strong arm reaching out to pull her to him by the hair. She went rigid as he spun her around and raked his gaze over the elegant form of her spine. The motion was so brusque it made tears erupt in her eyes and she clenched her eyes as he followed the exposed contours of her body.

"You're going to be a huge success among my security guards." He stated, releasing her at once and pleasantly returning to his seat. "You are to stay in the main building and have a front seat to his death tomorrow." He smiled and drank from his crystal glass. It was great to see what a vicious little thing the prince's consort had turned out to be.

******************************

Bulma gazed down at the gasping man as he convulsed on the floor and uttered his final breath. His eyes remained opened, damning her without words to a painful death. She backed down from the body and braced a hand on the wall, breathing heavily and trying to push the horrible image from her mind.

After leaving Zarbon she'd deftly worked the network until she located the right guard to seduce. She'd lured him to a secluded area, alluring him with delicate gestures and light touches. The unsuspecting guard had hoped that would lead to an eventful night but she'd used every ounce of womanly deceit she was capable of. She'd plowed for information on the prince's location, satisfaction shining in her eyes as the guard loosened up.

There was a reason for her choosing that particular storage room. She'd previously hidden the linen bag that contained her possessions, including the dagger, among the shelves. She'd originally planned on merely wounding and gagging the man, then locking him in, but the situation had gotten out of hand. It'd been easy to entice him but difficult to halt his advances. He'd pressed his hideous snout to her temple promising good pay if she let him hurt her during the act. He claimed she was far older than the minors he was used to having, but she was far too special to let slide. Bulma hadn't thought at all. All she remembered was grabbing the dagger and feeling his yielding flesh as it sunk deep into his belly.

She would have lingered around longer, overtaken by the horrors of the night but she was running out of time. She retrieved the Saiyan necklace from the bag and wrapped it around her wrist several times so it fit like a bracelet. She didn't want it jingling in the bag as she raced down the halls. She left the room and turned several corners, her transparent heels barely clicking on the metal lining of the floor.

A single drop of sweat trailed down her back when she realized she'd managed to find the maximum security area, the place where Vegeta was being held. A single guard leaned against the wall a hideous insectoid that sprung to an upright position after sensing her approach. His jaws clasped and his wings buzzed in confusion as he examined Bulma.

She learned that killing came easier the second time, the motion more fluid, the soul a little more forgiving. She'd been pale with fear all along, but had managed to entice him with the delicate brush of her body. They'd moved to a nearby cell, where she'd consummated the death with a quick move of the knife. The dagger cracked through his exoskeleton with ease, greenish gunk dripping down Bulma's blade to splatter on the floor. She numbed her conscience to her sins and memorized the code to Vegeta's unit from the guard's digital device before leaving him behind.

By the time she entered Vegeta's cell, hair bouncing against her shoulders, her heart was racing in anticipation. She focused on him, the rest of the world completely lost to her senses. She pushed the button to lock the gate behind her and crossed over to where he remained tied.

His wrists were bound to the wall, boots proudly planted on the floor even though his condition was appalling. He straightened his back at her presence, raising a dampened eyebrow to regard her. A few strands of raven hair were stuck to his forehead, slightly shorter ones clinging to his strong neck. Bulma regarded him struck. His washboard abdomen was exposed, pectorals gleaming with sweat and blood under the dim lights overhead. There were scarlet trails down the corner of his mouth to the point of his chin. He looked every bit a ruthless demon, an unholy creature that feasted on the blood of his enemies and crushed their bones with his monstrous might.

Bulma stepped closer and cupped his face. She wiped the blood from his lower lip with her thumb, seeking his eyes and finding them under long raven lashes. Her mouth ached to kiss him, to be the place he found solace in. She pressed petal lips to the corner of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, changing sides to drop kisses all over his face and whisper his name as she did.

She continued like she couldn't find her way to his full lips. When she finally did he immediately responded. His velvet tongue came out to taste the sweetness of her lips, sinking into her mouth and sliding sinuously against her tongue. She let him plunder her depths in a rich simulation of sex, of flesh gliding smoothly against flesh and then she sighed into his mouth.

Perhaps a kiss was worth a thousand deaths.


	25. Remembrance

**AN: **Heather Rinehart produced a beautiful illustration of Chapter 24. I want to formally thank her and share it with you. Make sure to check it out at the following address: http:// picasaweb . google . com and add the following: /lh/photo/KaERq889ttp3gvQcN7X7Og?feat=directlink (omit the spaces).

You'll find other illustrations made for this fic on my public album as well. I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed, especially mooni21 and Infinite Pen for such beautiful comments. I know I haven't been posting as frequently, but I've been writing. The rest of the story is practically finished. That means quicker chapters.

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

**Chapter 25 **

Step 26 – Remembrance

Her dance had been sorcery to Zarbon's usually sharp senses. She had a golden pass to roam the main base and front row tickets to the prince's execution. Everything had gone according to plan but that didn't loosen up the tightening in her throat or keep the stinging tendrils of worry from threading up her spine.

She worked the dagger through Vegeta's tethering chains with shaky fingers, the powerful weapon much too heavy for her slippery hands. Time remained her worse enemy. She'd have to halt the treacherous effect of the handcuffs and revert it, allowing Vegeta's energy reserve to fully replenish. If the programming language turned out similar to that of the device she herself had produced in her lab, her job would be simplified and they both would stand a chance. If it didn't…

Bulma bit into the tender flesh of her inner cheek, feeling her muscles clench against her worn-out bones. She couldn't let herself venture down the warped path of self-doubt, not after coming so far. She'd always been both impulsive and adventurous, far beyond the normal quota for her age band, but this was the first time she'd fought for something she truly believed in. She'd been raised on the simple notions of right and wrong and it had always been easier to hide behind them. But living with Vegeta had taught her things a rich girl like her was never meant know. She'd learned one irrevocable fact.

She'd never truly known desperation, and choice was never simple when you had.

She was so distraught in her personal cauldron of emotion she didn't have a chance to think or react. She was vaguely aware of metal scraping against metal and chains clanking heavily on the floor when she found herself flying back across the room, the searing heat of a masculine chest tightly pressed against hers.

Bulma landed on the floor hard on her back. The solid impact knocked the air out of her lungs and sent a black swarm of sparkling dots dancing behind her eyelids. She drew in a quick breath and flung her eyes open. She felt the relentless crush of a compact body spread over her, 200 pounds of iron muscle pinning her down with ease against the steel floor.

A grave growl, so slow it made her pores break into cold perspiration, strummed through her frame, vibrating like notes through a violin chord. She shuddered in response and gulped as the purr spread through his chest and into her body. His face was cast in dark shadows from which only his eyes glowed, feral and feline, like those of a night hunter. They looked at her with the voracious intensity of an ill-treated beast, a recently freed prowler left on the loose to terrorize the jungle.

His fevered breath feathered over her exposed throat and fear so intense her muscles ached with tension befell her. She pushed against his broad shoulders, taut with the tension of holding her still. This wasn't the prince with the critical mastermind she was used to. This was a wild and untamed creature, more beast than man and he had her at his mercy.

"Who are you?" He rasped, a wet gurgle of a sound low enough to make any grown man soil himself. He dipped his head so the tip of his nose slid down the tender flesh at the base of her throat, the very place her pulse fluttered. She curled her fingers deep into his shoulders but he remained as unmovable as a concrete wall and equally hard to the touch.

She thought she heard footfalls out on the hall but she became aware the sound was much too loud to be coming from the distance. It was her heart, thumping frantically against her ribcage and drumming away inside her head.

"Bulma… Bulma Briefs." Her voice sounded incredibly thin to her ears, hoarsened by the lack of spit in her mouth. She had a frightening feeling that something was very wrong with him, that the vicious treatment he had been subjected to had somehow perturbed his mind. The snarling, feral version of her lover looked at her through the eyes of a stranger, not a flicker of recognition in their depths.

Bulma's breathe faltered. Temporary amnesia was a common side effect when exposing a subject to prolonged and unregulated neural charges, something she hadn't foreseen. His kiss had somehow wiped all sense from her and now all she could do was curse eloquently inside her mind.

"Hn." He barely responded, a shadow of confusion darkening his red glowing irises and taming them to slow smoldering flames. Bulma's heart came to a full stop, knowing she had no true way out. She was as helpless as an agonizing doe, captive under the claws of a snarling jaguar. He was livid and deeply tortured. He was hungry for the blood of his enemies and he had no reason to trust her.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep from stuttering but she'd have to try. She had successfully saved her pretty behind from Frieza's brutish henchmen back in Namek. She'd just have to be equally resourceful with a hot blooded Saiyan.

"Vegeta, you may not remember me, but I'm here to help you. I'm here to set you free." She whispered, desperately seeking reassurance. "The ki-specific charges the handcuffs release have temporarily wiped out your memory. I'm the only one who can alter their effect. If you kill me, you're damning us both."

His eyes only obscured. She held her breath when she saw him easily ignore her, his blood-slicked muscles rippling as he lowered himself on his forearms so their midsections pressed together. He exhaled against the curve of her neck, scenting the fear that permeated her so enticingly. He didn't remember her, and he certainly couldn't tell if her words were lies but her particular aroma jiggled something in his brain. Something, hot and burning and oddly painful.

For the life of him he couldn't possibly fathom why a girl like her would ever want to help him. In fact, she was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to be placing herself in such peril. Perhaps she sought him out to gain protection from the monsters lurking outside, but he wasn't anybody's goddamned knight in fucking armor. He'd always looked only after himself and no other and he wasn't going to change that in the name of gratitude.

Or sex. Because her body felt like molten silk against his starved muscles and he was sure she'd be eager to fully repay him if he delivered them both from prison. He nearly lashed at himself in fury that a female would have any part in his triumph.

Where was Frieza? He could better take being freed by a much powerful being and not a weakling girl. But then he wasn't even sure what year it was. He wasn't sure about anything else for that matter. The last thing he remembered was sending Raditz off to retrieve his low caste brother. He wasn't certain who was holding him prisoner or the extent of their power. For all he knew his Ice-jin master had already forgotten him, leaving him to rot in his own filth after discovering his little ploy to dethrone him.

She gasped as his hand slid up over her hip and his fingers dug into her lower back, molding her to his body so she arched like a bow. She could feel him like hot steel against the thin fabric of her dress, her body awakening at once to his all too familiar touch. Muscles swelled in aching need in her deepest regions. They tingled instinctively, expecting the absolute fulfillment only he could bring her, associating his heat with the roaring release involved in their encounters.

"Vegeta, please." Her voice wavered and she nearly bit her tongue at her poor choice of words. It sounded more like a bedroom plea than a request to be released from his arms. Her smooth soled high heels slid against the polished metal of the floor, her long legs brushing his thighs. "We don't have much time before dawn and I need to work on disarming your handcuffs." He seemed more focused on the sharp angle of her waist and the soft slope of her hip, his hand smoothening slowly down the curve. She was pretty. Very much, but the woman talked too much.

"I've been under your care for months now. You brought me to this planet under your protection. I…"

She tangled her fingers on the hair at the nape of his neck and tried to pull him to her but she couldn't garner his attention. The force in her fists was enough to hurt any regular human but he didn't even flinch, his eyes tracing a fiery path over the tops of her thighs where the hem of her dress rested.

What would an unstable Saiyan do to a woman under these circumstances? Weren't they dangerous beyond human comprehension? His finely honed awareness, the part that made him man was buried deep beneath his animal side. She had no clue what to expect.

The sudden press of his nose against her lower belly nearly made her jolt. His energy was practically depleted but he remained far too strong for her. A thunderstorm wouldn't have been enough to separate them. She continued to pull on his long hair but his hands were firm as they gathered her hips to him for a deep inhalation.

"You made a promise to me." She threw her head back in abandon, her long lashes fanning her cheeks. "You said you wouldn't take me against my will. You said you would wait for me."

He could catch every individual note of honey that composed her tight little sex as he moved lower and pressed his nose to the gauzy triangle covering her. But he'd also caught a foreign whiff, something that signaled she'd been close to other men. Horny men for that matter.

He shifted upwards on his side, drawing her to him by the hip in a rough display of dominion. "You claim you belong to me?" He seethed, his eyes still glowing and his pointed incisors glinting in the wayward light. "You dare speak the words when the odor of two different men clings to you like some cheap excuse for a perfume."

"I didn't…" She started, a tremor of fear curling down her legs to her toes. Didn't he smell his Saiyan mark on her? It had been months, but by Kami had they gone at it like rabbits when they had the chance. The man had a very virile seed. She'd blushed for two weeks straight after their first encounter, ridiculously afraid the entire staff at Capsule Corporation would somehow smell it.

She could see the conflict in his eyes, his deep distrust of her close to winning the battle. His full lips formed into a snarl, a large hand gliding up her side to sneak behind her tight dress.

"They didn't touch me." She added in honest desperation, clinging to his hardening bicep as he drew her to him. His nimble fingers fumbled roughly with her lacey panties and pulled them down mercilessly, deciding he wouldn't let her complicate him. Only a flimsy barrier separated him from sure bliss, and though he'd never forced himself on any woman, this girl was special. She was… well, gods, she was the hottest piece of ass he'd ever seen. Pity she'd been forced to be a whore. Beauty was nothing but a curse in the hellish bowels of space.

She pushed against the heavy muscles of his chest, anxiety pitting low in her gut. "Vegeta, not like this. Please… Not like this. " Not after so many months of holding out in perfect abstinence for a chance at something better. Tears rushed forth to burn her eyes. This man was a stranger. He couldn't remember the promise he'd made her, the one he'd committed to with his own brand of honor. The pride he commonly adhered to would never allow him to indulge in rape, especially not when it came to her but this darker version of him couldn't be contained. He was a savage force of nature bent on drinking his fill.

His fingers moved from her pulled down panties to the swell of her ass, his solid erection hard against her thigh. "Don't do this." She pleaded, still pushing against the wall of his chest but ineffectually so. His eyes remained fixed on her with single minded focus, dark need singing through his veins as he bent to brush his lips against hers. Bulma trembled as she faced the truth. Even amnesiac, even half-maddened, he was completely besotted with her. He was bent on possessing her. One look, one kiss, had been enough to obsess him.

His hand seared the full curve of her bottom as he slid it down its length. "It's so obvious you don't know me." He said, his dark eyes on her lips. "I would never make the kind of promises you claim I've made you. I would never bind myself to any woman in such a manner. Only a lovesick fool would." His hand stroked her intimately, his rough handling tearing a whimper from her throat and a glittering tear from her eye.

His brow creased when a finger slid down to test her silken folds and found her dry and clenched. Women seldom opposed his advances. In fact it was them who often sought him out for a good, satisfying fuck. But she was closed to him and that rubbed at his insides for no good reason. He growled and grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger so he could look her in the eye.

"Why would I deny myself? Why would I care about your needs, or give a damn whether you desire me or not?" His voice was dark and guttural but there was a trace of honesty to it. "Whether you want me inside you, the way you want me or when you want me?" He was one breath away from a kiss, close enough to snap the reins of his tattered mind and tear her lips in the wake of his lust.

"Tell me, woman." He insisted, as if he truly expected a response. She wanted to scream to him that it was because he cared about her but the words died down in her throat as easily as they sprang in her mind. She would have given half a lifetime to indulge in that fantasy, to think that he wouldn't take her because he wanted not just her body but her soul. That in some twisted way he'd been courting her all these months. That every day they didn't touch they were doing something sexual, right below everyone's noses, but she only pressed her lips into a thin line, closing her eyes in defeat.

So she wasn't going to talk. Good. Better that way. He didn't care if he hurt her.

But he still didn't move. Vegeta growled, bunching his fist in her hair. He gnashed his teeth, unable to exact the release he craved from her body. For some God forsaken reason his very blood cried with the need to prove himself to her as a man, as a male that could awaken her wildest desires. It mattered deeply that she wasn't consenting but he couldn't afford the amount of time and energy it would take to make her pliable.

_Then simply ravage her, you pussy. _

Vegeta's entire body tensed like a wooden board, unable to function. She slid a tentative palm down the curve of his jaw, searching into his eyes, desperate for a respite.

"I killed for you." She whispered. "I have little time to break you from your confines. Let me do this. I have the knowledge to undo the effect the manacles are having on you and I can bring your memories back just as well."

He didn't want them. That was the first thought that crept into his mind but her voice was like an ancient rune, effectively taming the beast that wrestled within him. He could almost feel it receding back into its lair, the oozaru yawning and stretching before curling up to call it a night.

He drank the sight of her one last time, fascinated by his find. Her hair was a shimmery pool of blue satin beneath her, her eyes gazing up at him, brimming with light and intelligence, like she held the keys to his universe. The black eyeliner smudged around her eyes lent her the appearance of a ruthless goddess, her power only multiplied by the lushness and redness of her lips.

His wandering thoughts were abruptly cut by a sudden surge of fiery needles rushing forth from the handcuffs. The pain slashed through his spine, threatening to splinter it into a thousand fragments. He jolted back in agony, hitting the floor hard while his lungs strained to fill.

Bulma pulled her panties back up and sprang to her knees to hover over him. The muscles in his throat tensed with the pain that rode him, his agony evident as struggled to breath.

"You touch me, I kill you". He snarled, pinned to the ground by the waves of disarming pain. He'd rather die than let himself be further disgraced by accepting her help.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to take my chances won't I." She snapped. "We don't have the time to deal with your princely pride." Bulma pressed the back of her hand to his forehead feeling the scorching heat of his fever. It was so bad, she was sure he'd start convulsing again. In fact he'd probably convulsed many times over already. Zarbon was leaving him a hollow shell, a shadow of the man he used to be so his spirit was already shattered by the time he was led to the gallows. But nothing could fracture his core. She admired how intact his sense of pride remained under the twisting claws of the fever.

She searched the room, a burden easing off her when she caught a rudimentary sink bolted to the wall and a rag hung over the chrome faucet. It was surely used to wash the blood off the hands of the torturers who coursed through the wing. She walked over and wet the piece of cloth in the icy water, then made her way back to him. A flash of white caught her eyes and she noticed the upper part of his uniform on a pile in a corner. At least he'd have something to wear once he left here.

She sank to her knees, knowing full well she'd have to give him a measure of dignity before he allowed her to work on his manacles. The gore streaking down his nose and marring the sides of his lips was bright and extensive, his chest bathed in sweat and blood giving him the appearance of a warrior slain in battle.

She tried to press the moist tip of the rag to his cheek but Vegeta slapped her hand away before she was able to. Bulma frowned in frustration and inched it close one more time only to have her hand knocked away in derision one more time. She knelt back and sighed, unable to understand his stubbornness. Men were insufferable, or was it just Saiyans. She reached out again, certain this time he would be more accepting.

But he slapped.

"Stay still for the love of Kami! You're such an impossible man! What the hell does it take to win you over!" She nearly gasped at her own outburst, uncertain where that had come from. She remained still while his black eyes slid to her under his eyelids. He looked like he wanted to say something but the fever was ransacking him and so he only closed his eyes and turned his head away.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. She deliberately avoided delving into her words and merely tried again, infinitely glad when her attempt was successful.

The muscles in Vegeta's face contracted as she gently swiped the blood away, leaving nothing behind but the gleam of his bronze skin. She swathed a wet path down the thick column of his neck, reaching lower to glide the rag smoothly over the supple muscles of his chest. She reveled in the feel of his body. He was hard and perfectly molded, steel that barely yielded under the pressure of her hand.

His lower belly jerked the moment the cool cloth made contact with it and he once again closed his eyes. It gave him something to concentrate on rather the screeching of the demons in his mind. It was soft and wet and delicate. Like nothing he'd ever experienced.

"What am I to you, Vegeta." She questioned quietly. She was uncertain if he was able to hear her. Even if he could, at the moment he didn't remember her, and that allowed her tongue to loosen when it wouldn't have otherwise. "Am I a slave? A concubine or just another girl you met on a mission." Her lips quirked in bitter amusement. "A failed mission at that…"

Bulma shifted, moving to carefully straddle him so she could better wash him. Her cloth left a humid trail as it slid up over the indentation of his chest and the swell of a broad shoulder. She worked her way back, brushing past the hollow of his throat to swipe his other shoulder.

"Am I more than that?" Or was that a foolish dream? She'd thought herself immune to the token childhood fantasies, those that spoke of faraway princes come to whisk their lady off into the sunset. But she obviously wasn't. A part of her longed for more than fleeting lust, for her man to feel the way she felt for him. She should have known sleeping with him was going to be detrimental to her heart. "Should I give into you?" She whispered, her words barely audible in the emptiness of the room.

She touched every ridge and depression that composed his ribbed stomach, marveling at its pore-less perfection. His skin was smooth like some impenetrable metal, iron poured over muscle and hardened into a woman's wonderland. And that sweet belly button…

Her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she dipped the cloth into the tiny crevice, his stomach going rigid at once. A stray sense of satisfaction curled around her as he let out a ragged gasp.

Vegeta remained on the aftermath of the seizure, forcing his way up to consciousness like wading through molasses but he was still aware of her hands playing riddles with him.

His eyelids fluttered as he breached that dark tunnel that separated him from awareness. He opened his eyes and saw her perched on him, soft blue waves framing her face like a halo. His eyes were glassy from the blazing fever that accosted him, his neurons bent on the path of insanity but he remained still, drinking in soothing beauty. She was a lifeline, an anchor to the present, the look of her right now, enough to last him a lifetime.

She tucked a straggling lank of hair behind her ear, noticing how his skin now glistened under the pale shower of the traplights.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, watching her intently under heavy lashes. She had tended to him like the prince he was, not a broken slave that lay impotent on his prison.

Bulma remained quiet. She pondered his words for a long moment but failed to articulate the kind of response he expected, and so she gave a little sigh. "You want me to give you a proper explanation, something that will sound logical to your way of thinking but I can't. Logic has never worked between us, no matter how hard we've tried."

He merely looked at her, lingering on her as she spoke, bewildered that his mind wouldn't release her. Suddenly he wanted to know everything there was to know about her. Her name, the name of her world, the way she liked to be touched. Suddenly he couldn't think right.

"You're just going to have to trust me." She continued, looking down from her place atop him. She remained there like she had a right to him, her brazenness alluring. "You're going to have to believe in me and in my ability to work on your handcuffs. You'll have to trust that I'm not the enemy."

She swallowed down a gasp as he levered himself on an arm, staring at her studiously. Torture had left him looking worn out. The shadows beneath his eyes told a story of deep starvation but nothing could take away the handsomeness of his face.

His mouth was closed, lips well defined, as he thoroughly observed her. Could he remember her now? Was he reliving their many nights together? When he looked at her like that, he made her feel like the center of the universe. He made her stomach knot.

She gasped as his hand reached out to cradle her nape and pull her to him. Her eyes widened, heart fluttering in expectation of a kiss but he stopped short of touching her lips. "If I let you free me, I can't guarantee that I won't hurt you. I can't guarantee that I won't kill you." He held her tight against him and she swallowed in torturous anticipation. "Worse, I can't guarantee we won't end up doing things together you might later regret. Do you understand this?"

She didn't move a muscle as he held her, only nodded.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "So I guess _you'll_ just have to trust me." He let her go and Bulma let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She didn't linger, knowing time was of the essence. She promptly dismounted him, instantly missing the hard press of his slender waist under her thighs.

She reached for the dagger that lay on the metal floor, planning to use its fine tip to tinker with his handcuffs. Slowly she crawled past him, moving in silence, careful to avoid his gaze. She leaned back against the wall and he simultaneously shifted to rest his head comfortably on her lap. He lifted an arm, exposing a bonded wrist to her so she could begin her task.

She used the dagger as splicer and screwdriver, unraveling the mysteries of the contraption with the expertise of a skilled scientist. She toiled all through the night, relentlessly, undeterred by the obstacles. By the time she was finished, her fingers were a bruised and bloody mess, her nails completely destroyed. The bands, on the contrary, remained intact, blinking and untouched to the untrained eye.

He'd fallen asleep hours ago, a deep slumber allowing his cells to engorge with the energy so ruthlessly taken from him. His Saiyan body swelled with latent power, growing impossibly stronger after being driven to its limits.

She let the dagger slide off her weary fingers and leaned her head back on the metal wall, infinitely weary but unable to sleep. She couldn't find any solace. All she could do was contemplate his last words.

Her sins were waiting for her outside that door, eager to creep up on her like the ever approaching dawn. But it wasn't murder that bothered her the most, or breaking the law by freeing a convicted felon. Nothing was more powerful than the man now lying on her lap.

It was her previous rebellion to Vegeta's dominion that forced her eyes to remain half open. It was her personal debt to him that kept her awake, the unspoken carnal wishes between them. Tomorrow he'd remember her and all that had previously transpired between them. Tomorrow she'd have to face it all.

She knew she couldn't delay their date with destiny anymore, that the time for her to make up her mind had come. She'd waited long enough for the strength to forget him, to purge him out of her system but he was thunder made man, a force to be reckoned with. The Prince of all Saiyans wasn't the kind you could just forget.

Memories swamped her and confused themselves with dreams until her eyes gave way to tiredness. Slowly but surely she succumbed, completely unaware the moment sleep came over to finally sweep her in its arms.


	26. Prelude

AN: *frets* Sorry for the delay!

Warning: bit gory…

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan**

Chapter 26.

Step 27: Prelude

"One move, and you're dead, bitch."

The words sliced through the silence like a rusty blade, ripping it open and poisoning it. She winced at one of the many guards placed equidistantly along the walls of the spaciously somber hall. And she breathed in a lungful before closing her eyes.

Bulma wasn't sure how long she'd been kneeling on the arctic steel of the floor, but by the numbness in her legs and the way the cartilage in her kneecaps was threatening to liquefy, she was certain it must have been hours. Her arms hung limply at her sides as she endured her penance, her head thrown back under the glare of a single overhead light. All that kept her from crumbling down like a broken marionette was the callous words the guards kept hissing her way. They were the perfect reminder of death.

Well Zarbon was a right sadistic bastard when he was pissed, wasn't he? Well, he always was, but anger turned him positively hellacious. And boy, had she made enough merits to incur his wrath.

There she'd been, neck bent to the side as she dozed against the back-bruising wall on Vegeta's cell when the sound of boots had snapped her back to the land of what-the-fuck. A troika of guards had barged in, snatched her roughly from her job as Vegeta's makeshift pillow – one she'd thoroughly enjoyed for some reason - and dragged her fuzzy-eyed, badly mussed-up, half-dressed self away from him.

She wasn't sure that'd been the thing to fully wake the Saiyan. Not the heavy padding of the steel toed boots or the way he'd hit his head on the floor when they pulled her thighs from under him. No, what had fully woken him must have been the way she'd shrieked.

She remembered him springing to a sitting position in full alertness just as her wail had left her throat. He focused his red-rimmed glower on the guard who'd dared take his cushiony bed of a woman away.

Ah… hell. Ugly-ass, grimly, decadent hell. It'd been there in his eyes, a jungle of leaping flames braising the guard right where he stood. She'd felt the pile of hideous muscle holding her, tense like a frightened bulldog. And then Vegeta had looked at her… and the fire had turned soft and smoldering, and there had been alacrity in his every pore. While the other two guards slapped his face aside and manhandled him to the back corner until his spine rammed into the wall, he didn't stop looking at her. Her eyes, her lips, the necklace wrapped around her wrist, the seemingly empty linen bag at her feet. Cut. The rubies of his dagger peeking from a dark secluded corner…

He recognized her.

And why wouldn't he. The amnesia was surely gone. Yes, the cuffs _looked_ intact, blinking pedantically to the audience, but she'd cracked them like Vegeta cracked a skull. Not that the morons holding her had a flipping clue. To them she had failed in her endeavor. But indeed the cuffs were nothing but gaudy bracelets on his thick wrists and he sure as hell didn't care for that kind of accessorizing.

A guard kicked him viciously between the ribs and she gasped, the savior in her needing to go to him until she remembered the facts. He didn't need saving anymore. Her work here was done. If anything, she was the one in deep shit now, while he was heavy and bursting with raw energy, the energy she'd given him back. He didn't make a move though, as they chained him, like he was assessing the situation. His eyes remained unreadable as the guards closed gates on him.

She did the usual struggle-struggle, get-your-hands-off-me-you-fucking-ass routine, not because she was faking it, but because trepidation had tightened her gut, and next thing she knew she was here, being made to remain kneeling by strict orders from above. The Lord of the dungeon had yet to show his mug but she could imagine wrath pulling his face into a bitter mask. To him the Saiyan nightmare remained effectively imprisoned, so there was no threat. That wouldn't cause him to huff and puff, but when it came to her? Well, she'd completely betrayed his trust. If he indeed had even trusted her at all. Perhaps this was all just a freaking mind game.

Pinpricks of perspiration needled at her forehead, the valley between her breasts damp as if she'd ran a marathon. God, her knees were killing her. Where was Vegeta? Shouldn't he be blasting his way through a firestorm right about now? Shouldn't he be whisking her away in his powerful arms amidst the thundering boom and crash of the whole compound? Wasn't this the part where the hero saved the heroine in a spectacle of a million, bedazzling colors?

A guard coughed. Another one spit. And she cursed under her breath feeling death inch ever closer. God, she truly _was_ stupid wasn't she. He'd probably already eloped. Perhaps it would have been better that he remained amnesiac. Now that he remembered her, he had many reasons to leave her behind. He almost always acted like he didn't like her, after all. Like she gave him an itch or something.

Thus the mighty fall, she thought. A dazzling heiress born upon a gilded throne ended a cold-blooded murderess, and all for a man that didn't even love her. And the headlines would run like rivers: Bulma Briefs feared abducted by alien. Parents place blame on space fiend. Secret love affair suspected. Oh Gods. Wasn't her life over.

She was overcome with the need to blame Vegeta, to pin her fall from grace and subsequent death squarely on his shoulders, but she found herself unable to do so.

Passion. It was all she could the place blame on. Red-blooded passion, full and ripe, and heady like the best sex she'd had with him. That had been her main driving force as of late. It was that fire that only he could ignite that had pushed her to the very edges of hell. And by fire she didn't mean the sexual kind - although, good Lordy, was that good. No, but she meant the kind of the soul. The one that set your chest in flames until you felt you couldn't breathe. And as odd as it sounded, that somehow soothed her. After all, it was passion fraught with reason. She wasn't crazy. She was just in love.

Hold up. _What?_ Her face scrunched like a mule had just kicked her in the gut.

With a vengeance.

Okay so she loved him. Fine. Nothing to worry about. At least she'd now die and never face him again. Talk about backwards, twisted logic, but it worked. Yes, she'd pass on to the next dimension without dealing with it at all. No weird relationship shit, no unrequited feelings to scald her already bruised ego. No debts to pay in bed. Instead she would pluck at the golden clouds all day, watching down on him like those chubby cherubs, seeing him kill and maim and go about his business. Hard-asses would be hard-asses after all and for what it was worth, at least she felt like she knew him now.

Though the universe condemned him, he was a victim himself. There'd just never been room for his own retribution. What about the wrongs done unto him? What about _his _justice? He was her prince of pain and unfairness, her child of war beaten into slavery and all-around abuse. There was infinite integrity to him even through the sins he had committed. As bleak as his existence was, he never pretended to be something he wasn't, and though that meant he was harsh and cruel, and plain…. BAD, she could always count on him to be truthful.

This morbid façade of a justice system was something else altogether. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and the puppeteers of the universe didn't seem to be an exception. There must have been a time when they wielded the sword of justice with a true sense of honor, but the absence of a true tyrant like Frieza seemed to have slackened their principles. She didn't blame them for tagging criminals like the Saiyan prince, but the absence of due process and their liaisons with the underworld reeked with the stench of personal convenience. They disposed of those they couldn't benefit from and eliminated anyone that posed a threat to their dominion.

Just as they were about to do with her…

Bulma flinched as a gate swished open behind her, the sound cutting through her thoughts like a knife through butter. Then the rapid click of heels on the floor filled the hollow room until she thought she'd go deaf. A number of guards drew themselves up in apprehension and she knew without a doubt who it was. A shadow stepped into her line of vision and before she could even blink, the world spun in a violent blur. Zarbon cocked her across the face with his closed fist, smashing the tender flesh of her lip into her upper teeth.

He fisted the hair at the nape of her neck and wrenched her skull back up as she blinked in pain. "You know, I actually suspected you were lying last night. You didn't think I was stupid, did you?"

Bulma closed her eyes, tasting the metal flavor of her own blood as it spilled from the cut on her lip. "I knew there was a chance you would use me to run back to your master like the good little whore you are. I knew you'd try to set him free." Bulma gazed up at his dark angular face and found nothing but contempt in his golden eyes. Her head swam from the blow and although she wanted to fight, she knew she didn't stand a chance. Her small reservoir of energy was nearly depleted.

Zarbon breathed into her face, eerie confidence mixed with absolute derision. "I hope you managed to squeeze one last good farewell fuck from him last night, because that's the last you'll ever have."

He pushed her head back, jerking her free and walking around to stand behind her. "I didn't care if you ended up being a devious little cheat and sneaking into his cell. I didn't even care if that cost me the life of a few expendable guards. I do admit their demise at the hands of a mere girl shames me, but here's the thing: I knew there was nothing you could do to save Vegeta."

And that was that. He was confident he had her figured out to a tee. Hell, she was nothing but space trash to him. "The technology behind those handcuffs is nothing short of spectacular." He continued "They're virtually indestructible. In fact, it would take a scientist… no, a _genius_ scientist to decode its secrets. They're a marvel of hyper-advanced mechanical engineering. Not that you'd even know what that means." And he snickered.

Bulma's eyes fluttered, and she stared on ahead, a glimmer in her eye that was completely lost to him. What an asshole.

"So whether you helped me kill him or you tried to free him, there was no way I wouldn't win. You've officially infringed the law now and it's two for the price of one."

He truly wasn't coming for her, was he? God, he was probably on his way to Earth as she sat here dallying with the red-skinned snake in frilly clothes. She tried to be okay with it. Really, she did, but his absence weighted on her like heavy slabs of dry ice. She swallowed hard and sunk her nails on her palms until they left moon crescents on her dampened flesh.

"Now, before you think I'm nothing but a callous bastard, let me assure you I'm not here for the mere lust of blood." She heard the soft whirring of a mechanism as the curved wall ahead peeled down to reveal a bank of gleaming monitors. A sundry array of important looking creatures stared at her from their recesses, some bulbous and repugnant while others looked as long and slender as Zarbon himself. Their perfect stillness and vacant eyes chilled her further than if they had uttered a word.

The judges of the courts. They had to be.

"I could simply kill you for attempting to free a convicted felon, but I'll let you choose your own fate in a rare show of mercy." He leaned next to Bulma's face to gaze up at the monitors, his cheeks widening in self-pleasure. Then he glanced to the side. "See the reptilian in the corner?"

Bulma's eyes fell over a broad shouldered creature with soft, greenish skin that had walked into the room unnoticed. He had a long uneven row of sharp teeth that dripped with a viscous fluid and the slimy exterior of a toad. Her breath hitched in her throat and she decided to avert her eyes for fear that he would haunt her every nightmare.

Zarbon slid his fingers up over her nape and gathered her long strands of hair in a tight grasp, pulling back so she was forced to arch her back. "He's a slave trader and I'm sure he'd have no difficulty finding you a suitable owner, or a suitable use among his many clients." Bulma's lower lip trembled and she bit it hard, nearly yelping when she clamped over the open wound.

"But you do have a choice. Slavery or death. Choose the latter and I'll slash your throat right here, right now. Your death would be quick, which is a bummer, but my audience here…" He nodded at the creatures "Sure like this sort of thing. Word of advice? Choose wisely, 'cause payback's a bitch and no one's here to rescue you."

Bulma's eyes widened, her scalp aching from the way Zarbon was pulling it tight. The choice was easy. Death. She preferred a quick death to a lifetime of torture and abuse that would leave her nothing but a shadow of herself. Her eyes darted back to the revolting toad-like creature that watched her with eagerness, desperate for her to choose the fate that would place her in his slimy claws for the rest of her life.

"D-d…" The word died in her mouth, unable to pull free. Although her brain chose the path of least resistance, her heart insisted in believing Vegeta wouldn't forget her, and lately her heart always won. He wouldn't abandon her to the hyenas of the universe without a second glance. He would appear before her in a halo of shimmery light like the fallen god he was and even if he didn't, that dream alone was enough to keep living.

"Slavery."

At the sound of her word, the toad-like creature's giddiness became nearly tangible. Her stomach swam with nausea. The faces in the monitors remained unfazed, and although she couldn't see him, so remained Zarbon.

He would have enjoyed slitting her throat, feeling the warmth of her blood trickling from his fingers, but thrusting her into the arms of the reptile was nothing short of pleasurable, so in the end he wasn't too peeved. It sure was surprising though. Perhaps the bitch was a masochist? He shrugged and pulled tighter on her hair, unsheathing a gleaming knife from a holster at his thigh.

"Uh… well, suit yourself. By the way, female slaves have no identity and no worth, and as such they're not allowed to grow their hair." With a motion of his wrist he sliced right through her glossy strands of aquamarine hair, right at the point where he was tensing it. She lurched forward, abruptly torn from Zarbon's grasp and feeling her head a million times lighter. The luscious locks fell to the floor in disarray, sprawling around Bulma's legs in dejection. Much shorter strands brushed forward, the ends touching her chin and leaving her neck and her shoulders bare to the coldness of the room.

"Now before I send you off, I thought I'd grant your request from last night. You did ask to witness Vegeta's execution and I'll be damn happy to oblige. After all, I did enjoy that wicked dance you did, what with the near nakedness and the way you practically fucked the entire room with nothing but your eyes. It got me hard. I swear it got every other fucker in there nearly blowing a hole through their pants as well." Zarbon sheathed his knife and lifted his nose to a guard. "Send for Vegeta. The time for his death has finally come."

At that, the characters in the monitors stirred like they could barely contain themselves, and Bulma knew this was what they'd truly been waiting for. The guard pressed a button on the control panel. After a second of nothing but silence, he tore his gaze away from the tiny security monitors on the panel and turned a wan face to his master.

She felt Zarbon go rigid, and without a single word exchanged, he marched up to the bank of portable-tv sized screens, like he had a blood curdling suspicion. He brushed the guard aside and focused on the images, each of which was being fed by the cameras that focused on the different areas of the base.

Zarbon took a step back, still transfixed but suddenly mute. He looked like a cocker spaniel about to piss on his master's expensive rug.

The guard he'd so contemptuously pushed aside spoke through all the weird-ass silence, but he didn't put anyone at ease with what he said. All he did was increase the weirdness by a factor of ten. "Their heads." He breathed. "They are all… dead. And they got no heads, all the guards in the wings. All without their heads." Bulma narrowed her eye and caught a glimpse of red from the monitors but she couldn't make much else. "No heads… only blood. So much blood." Now there were two cocker spaniels in the house, Zarbon and the guard, and Bulma feared for the floor's integrity.

She saw Zarbon stand back and swallow, like he was tuning his ear to the very pipes hidden behind the walls and the soft buzzing of the flickering monitors. Like he was waiting for something.

Just like that a head dropped on the floor at his feet. It was Secha's.

His second in command, stared at him from half-hooded milky eyes, the body-less head rocking morbidly as it slowly came to a halt, all color draining from Zarbon's face.

"I confessed I would kill you, didn't I. Back at my suite." Vegeta's voice, perfectly deep and controlled, sounded against Zarbon's ear. There was a cold trace of mockery in it, chilling it as it rang. "Well, good evening fucker, I think the time's right."

She stared like an idiot. She couldn't for the life of her remember seeing him materialize, but there he was, a vision of navy and white, holding his dagger to Zarbon's neck. Blood coated the planes and crevices of his breastplate, glittering like rubies on his gloves. His eyes completely focused on his prey and his fangs drawn out. His control was so tight and perfected she had to remind herself to close her mouth. She was in freaking peril. She should be running, from the slave trader, from Zarbon's minions. Hell, she should probably even be running from Vegeta himself, he looked so pissed.

And then all hell broke loose. Guards flung themselves at him from all directions, tackling him like a hoard of football players from hell. Most were far taller and heavier built then he was, and that gave them a temporary advantage. Zarbon stumbled free from the hurdle, slamming into the bank of monitors and holding his own throat like it was going to come undone. His hands came away bloody but he wasn't mortally wounded.

Bulma scrambled away on shaky legs, the pain on her numbed-out knees nearly making her howl. As Vegeta struggled under the pummeling, the mountain of muscle shifted, like a pressure cooker about to burst. A wave of energy split forth, lighting the spaces between the heaving bodies and pushing through the atoms in the room until they squeezed against the walls. The massive burst thrummed in all directions, throwing Bulma against the wall until she crumpled down like a boneless doll.

The air got sucked out of her lungs but she wheezed, breathing in the sheer crisp power that was all Vegeta and that filled the room in a sparkling blue haze. He emerged free and a guard with a chest as wide a truck flung himself at him, nearly knocking him over. Vegeta rolled away to perch himself on one knee, assessing the giant while keeping tabs on every other creature in the room.

The people in the monitors stared in shock. And so would have Bulma, if only she hadn't been so worried about that big slimy toad that was slowly recovering from the blow and seeking her out with yearning eyes.

Vegeta plunged straight into the mass of muscle ahead of him, slamming his fist into the yielding stomach and punching through with ease. As he eviscerated the guard, he pointedly glanced at Zarbon, allowing him to relive that day in Namek where he'd pretty much suffered the same fate. Zarbon was still clamping a hand on his leaking throat but he remained inert, knowing the rest of the guards were crawling their way to the prince like a pack of rabid dogs.

Bulma remembered the green planet as well, except that was all children play compared to the carnage that ensued. Vegeta's eyebrows sunk and his lip curled at the side as he maimed, diced and tore every one of Zarbon's minions until they were left a bloody heap. He smashed his elbow into one last skull, not even breaking a sweat as the poor nameless bastard slipped to the floor after the others.

At his sudden loneliness, Zarbon snapped into a frantic escapade, dashing away and disappearing through a nearby hall.

That's when she tried to stand but her legs remained useless. She wobbled in place like a deer on an ice rink, hoping against all odds that she found the strength to carry her own ass. Instead, warm webbed hands pulled her into an equally sticky body as the toad dragged her off towards a different exit. Vegeta spun around quickly, glancing at the archway Zarbon had sprinted through but stopping in his tracks to glance at her.

She swung terrified eyes at Vegeta. She would have said something except her lungs felt as dry and shriveled as an autumn leaf. Her captor's foul breath fluttered her shortened hair as he held her, his sharp teeth nearly bruising the soft column of her neck as he carefully inched towards the exit.

And just like that Vegeta turned away, striding purposefully after Zarbon and freezing Bulma's blood right in her heart.

"Vegeta!" Came her one piercing howl, a sound so pained and heavy with anguish it carried across the room like the toll of a bell. He could have sworn she saw him hesitate, but he continued his stride, placing greater and greater distance between them. Death. She should have chosen death after all. Now she was saddled with slavery for having chosen blindly.

She wasn't sure how long it took the creature to weave his way through the gory corridors of the base but he finally breached the surface. And all through it she remembered Vegeta's dark eyes as he'd looked at her, how unreadable his expression had been. Had he listened to Zarbon's little tirade and his comments on her sultry stripper-like dance? Was he aware of her sinful performance for his enemies?

Outside, the amphibianoid thrust her into a wooden cage big enough to hold a small family, set on the back of a rustic vehicle that looked like a beat-to-shit truck. He locked it and jumped behind the wheel. The thing whirred to life and drove off, jumping over the uneven surface of the alien ground and sending Bulma's stomach bouncing against her ribcage.

As they retreated, the base begun to pop and shake in a series of explosions. The sounds were deafening yet somehow not enough to drown the sound of Bulma's breathing. She held onto the bars of the cage, becoming catatonic with fear for the first time in her life.

She couldn't breath, she couldn't think, she had gone numb.

Vegeta was a living nightmare of a man, a Saiyan powerful enough to inspire awe and terror but she'd _never_ felt safer than when held in his arms. He had once vowed to protect her and she'd truly believed he would. She had feared herself, but she hadn't truly feared him. She hadn't even feared the dangers of space, all because he was with her.

Life drained from her face as the base disappeared behind the horizon, the haze of twilight cresting over the divide.

She was screaming his name in her head, screaming it over and over again, gut-wrenching cries that wouldn't stop but only multiply.

_Vegeta… Vegeta, please._

A single tear spilled down her cheek until it touched her lips and it hovered there, like a hopeless kiss.

All of a sudden the world splintered into dust around her, the skies crashed, life did a somersault and the engines of the universe backtracked. She bounced violently, unable to find purchase in the midst of the chaos. A heavy crash right above her sent a thousand chips of wood raining down on her. Strong arms reached down to scoop her up towards a solid chest, holding her tight before dashing off in a streak of light across the velvet sky.

"Hold on to me." He said against her hair and that she did, curling her arms over his shoulders with every once of strength she possessed. Her nails dug into his muscles and she buried her face against Vegeta's neck, the wind sifting through her hair as he flew. It carried the echoes of the last explosions, the sound more like a lullaby now as it wafted through the dusky skies. He flew her away from the crumbled prison and as he did, she lost track of time, her ear pressed to his body as she listened intently to the steady rhythm of his heart.

AN: Well, what do you know. Time for some lemonade. (lemons… lemons… ) I like mine sweet with just the right hint of sour.


	27. Submission

**How to Make Love to a Saiyan **

**Chapter 27**

**Step 28 – Submission**

Bulma hadn't truly paid attention to the details in Vegeta's master bedroom. Last she'd been in his royal suite, she had felt the grand aura of his private chambers, had even admired the deep blue drapes and gleaming masculine furniture around the lavish room, but the finer details had been lost to her. Now she sat in the middle of the royal canopy bed, her ass on sheets that were probably worth a bazillion zeni, taking in every aspect of the place.

She tilted her head and expertly worked the knots on her damp hair with every pass of her brush. It felt weird to not have to untangle industrial amounts of hair, but she could easily get used to the shorter locks. She smirked lazily at the imperial size of the Prince's very lair, probably big enough to fit her own room thrice. Feh, and she'd thought she was rich. Not by extraterrestrial standards it seems. She felt small but incredibly enough, she felt secure. For all its quiet display of power, it was nothing short of inviting.

Vegeta observed her from door jamb as she brushed her hair. She was a glimmer of pale skin against the dark backdrop of his massive bed. It was rooted firmly to the floor by legs shaped into Oozaru claws, a rough contrast to her almost vulnerable femininity. And he stood by the "almost" bit. She was a tough girl, and to his eternal wonderment, he'd grown to appreciate it. A ball-breaker with a gentle touch and a devil's streak. Exquisite to a t. Food for the gods.

He'd told her to wait in his room while he explored the place to size up the damage done by his captors. The diligent help still serving under the house of Vegeta had already cleared away most of it and it appeared healed from the abuse. Nevertheless, he took his time to pace through every room, looking into every nook and cranny with a clinical eye, his blood stained gloves sweeping over doors and windows to make sure his privacy wasn't compromised.

He heaved a little sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling the tension gathered in his back. He was tired. Oh so tired. Exhausted in more ways than one, yet this simple moment… watching her in private and without her knowing gave him a measure of peace. She wore a sheer white, figure-hugging slip that teased him with its presence. Her expression that of a woman lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking of. More to the point, WHO she was thinking of and if she hated his guts for all the shit he had put her through.

He'd spent countless days fantasizing about her bending to his will. He'd been arrogant and sexually manipulative, but then again hadn't she done the same to him? It was a constant power struggle that somehow turned him on but left him wanting more.

Her submission.

The sweet nectar of triumph. Her legs opening for him and inviting him into his private Eden… to bury himself in her and never let go. But the maelstrom of his stormy will alone could never achieve that. It could only tempt her with what he had to offer.

"We have one, maybe two days before this place is swarmed with additional enemy forces from the closest system." He said, making her snap to attention.

God, his tone. It chilled her to the bone. She loved how bitter-sweet it was. Searing cold and yet so capable of exciting her.

He begun un-strapping his armor but kept watching her – carefully removing his dagger and his transact card from behind his broken chest-plate. Muscles flexing as he threw the plastic on the nearest surface then removing the chest piece entirely and letting it fall to the floor.

"I suggest you begin fixing the ship's AC at once. I don't want to hear your constant nagging on the journey back. Your beauty concerns, or the -clinginess of your clothes if you start getting sweaty…" He gave her a once over "…are not my concern and certainly not my problem."

"Uhm… yeah. That shouldn't take long." She answered. "With the ship shut down and anchored it will be a matter of minutes."

"Oh I don't know, girl. Minutes may not be enough."

A thrill filtered down her spine. The way he used words made everything sound sexual. He made her feel like prey, like she could run but couldn't hide.

Moreover, she felt like a bit like a slut, sat there in his bed wearing almost nothing, but donning any other type of clothing at all felt unnatural. She was tired of playing games. Truth is, she had always been afraid of him and it was time to acknowledge it. She had always gambled with boys, never a man. It took a woman to handle this kind of guy and she was done acting like a scared little girl.

Vegeta, who was now bare-chested and wearing nothing but the tight leg-hugging bottom of his armor drew his face into a slight frown. He shifted his eyes. The bank of windows showed-off the metropolitan skyline in all its splendor, city-lights shimmering in the inky water.

"I release you from the terms of our relationship."

She gave him the slightest of squints. "What?" A tiny silence followed. "Why?"

Those deep dark eyes turned back to her "You don't owe me your body. You don't have to thank me with sex or put out just because you think you should."

He pushed himself off the doorjamb and walked over to the silver basin sitting on a table on the far side of the room. He used his hands to douse his face with the warm water then worked the knots on the back of his neck before running his fingers over his thick hair. All at a leisurely pace. Secure in his every move. He turned around to face her as he patted the moisture off his tanned skin with a monogrammed towel. His expression was unyielding as he tossed the towel aside and pierced her with an unwavering look.

"I can't change what I am, Bulma, and neither can you. We are impossible together, you and I. Not even in bed can we function, and I have other priorities in mind."

_You're holding me back._ The unspoken message rang in the air loud and clear, and it stung. Here's where she would verbally lash out at him and turn all attention to her needs. Here's where the fighting would ensue and the clash of wills would leave them both bruised and broken and grappling with the left-over pieces of themselves.

He was breaking up with her.

The thought was chilling and it gave her a clarity of mind. All this time she had considered herself his, despite the distance, and by the same token she had considered him hers. But he was severing that tie with the unwavering hand of a surgeon.

And he kept going, centering on the inconvenience of being attracted to her.

"You didn't have to come and save me, I can't thank you for stupidly placing yourself in peril for me." There were traces of indignity in his words. He'd expected her to trust his ability to pull through, not mother him or put him at odds with himself. She could recognize that but she needed to appeal to his logic. Where was reason when you needed it?

"I didn't save you Vegeta. I only enabled you to save us both. You know that. I am not your enemy, I only wanted to help…"

"To hell with that…" He let out a quiet growl. "You danced naked for my enemies. You were more intimate with them than you've been with me for months. You let them touch you… lust for you, want to fuck you." He closed his right hand around his left wrist and gently massaged the bruises on his skin. "For that alone I dragged Zarbon across the hallways and executed him before the very eyes of those ready to judge me. I crunched his skull with my bare hands, looked at my captors straight in the eye and smirked in victory." He bared a canine as he relived his disgust in his mind. "What do you think about that?"

She was drawn to the wild flame of his spirit, she wanted to rub against it and let it consume her. That's what she thought.

"I only tempted them with what they can't have." She explained, her hands tingling with the need to run them over his full lips. "With something that didn't belong to them."

Some odd expression of pain flitted through his face, like he could recognize her actions as also being applied to him, and in that moment there was so much she wanted to say to him, but she bit her tongue.

"How can I make you understand that you are now a target?" Vegeta snarled "They're not going to come for me, they're coming for you. Your world, your people… that'll be the easy access to me. Once we leave this planet, it may take years but the day of reckoning will come. Those imbeciles you call friends won't be able to protect you, no matter how much faith you put in them."

"Then you'd better get your ass ready to do the job of a Prince."

"Can't give you what you want."

"How can you possibly know what I really want Vegeta…"

"Oh I think I do… I'm very good at reading you."

"Bullshit"

"Try me…"

"Make love to me."

He looked at her with a shocked expression and no words for a comeback. His saliva thickened and his lips went dry, and of course he hardened at the very thought of what she'd just offered.

"Why." Was all he could come up with. Fuck, that was a lame response if he ever heard one. Maybe he should put on a tutu and kiss his manhood goodbye. What in the hell was the matter with him?

"Because I've wanted you since day one, and you know it. And the honest truth of it all is we both want to fuck each other's brains out. Your presence alone is enough to make me wet and you know I'm going to cum so hard all night long while you're doing pretty much the same in me."

Sweet heavenly…

"Bulma… you dirty little…"

"You want me." Her heart rate had picked up and he could sense it well through his heightened Saiyan skills. "You want me so bad it hurts. You need me in more ways than one. It's clear as day Vegeta… and you'd rather fuck me than kill me any given day, and that's just the truth of it."

The air was charged with electricity and it was all him. Her creamy womanly scent pervading his senses, filtering through his veins and travelling head to toe. He could almost feel himself entering her over and over again, filling her up with his essence, then lapping at her saturated sex before kissing her where it counted.

"Don't play with me. Not again." He whispered. To every other woman he'd been nothing but a practiced cock with a great reputation. Prince, warrior, beast. Whatever suited their fantasy. To her he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be a Saiyan. He didn't want to just get her off.

"You lied to me…" He continued, enduring the sudden pressure in his balls. "You played me for a fool. Too dominate, too intense, too bad. It was all you could ever say, and you wouldn't stop complaining about it." He grated his molars. She was wet alright, he could smell it in the air and she was getting wetter by the minute. "As if I am to blame for who I am. Is it my fault that the sex is so good?"

She gave a short breathless laugh… "Good?"

"Yeah. Good." He bit out.

"No." She said with a quiet resolve. "Not your fault you make me cum with a single word or a single touch."

At that he unconsciously licked his bottom lip.

"The thought of someone else's hands on you drives me fucking crazy." He said, his cheek twitching as he pinned her to the spot with piercing eyes.

"Is it my fault I drive you nuts?" Her chest swelled with her every breath. Her tits straining against that unholy mesh that covered her tight nipples. "Is it my fault I am so tight you are addicted… and you can't think of anything but fucking me?"

He cupped his cock with his right hand, more to stay rooted right where he was than to to relieve himself like some sort of perv. He was not going to do that.

"Tell me Vegeta…" She pressed on. "Is it my fault, you want me so bad the thought alone drives you insane."

"I am not yours to tame. I can't change the way I take you, the way I'm going to posses you. Can't help, dominating you in bed, wanting you to do real dirty things then hearing you scream my name while doing them. If that's a deal breaker for you then too bad."

She clenched her thighs, chewed her bottom lip and battled down her pride as she kept on listening.

"I can't help craving you to submit and hearing you call me Master. I am an insensitive jerk that way and you are not going to change me"

"I don't want to. And you are not going to change me either. I am not going to become your little puppet. I am not yours to control out of bed. And in bed, I will call you Lord and Master by my free will and my free choice."

He un-palmed his crotch to crack his knuckles as he formed a fist against it.

"Make me your slave in bed, treat me like your personal pleasure-girl… be MY prince. I belong to you and through your ownership, you belong to me."

"I thought I told you. I don't make love. I fuck and I do a hell of a job."

"You wanna fuck any other bitches?"

Fuck no. They weren't worthy of him, and in all honesty… he was tired of picking up tail. This girl right here was a succulent sex slave, but what made things so good with her is that at heart, she was a queen. Fit for a Saiyan Prince, someone he might have even considered wedding if he only had a kingdom to preside.

"No." He said honestly.

"Good, then with that in mind, make love to me so that I never want to leave your arms."

Could this really be that simple? That an ex-con and a lost, homeless prince like him could have a chance to his own girl? To feel like a Saiyan with a sense of normalcy in his life?

He slowly approached her and she slowly rose to a standing position so they were both face to face, only a inch of separation between them

"I can give in to this fantasy tonight, that we're both for each other, but after the morning comes…"

He might very well leave her. That she knew. But if only one night is all they had… then she wanted to know what it felt to be loved by her dark prince.

She sought his mouth, nipped his bottom lip before whispering "Vegeta…"

And then it all happened too soon… his mouth crushing hers in a violent kiss followed by hands that wouldn't stay in one place for too long. She felt the mattress against her back, the wall of solid muscle coming down on her in a delicious fight with sexual promise. His lips were unrelenting as they devoured hers, her lungs gasping for breath as she held on to him with trembling arms. He was moving against her parted legs, hard and hungry as he sought to sate the pressure he was feeling. And her mind could only scream… yes, over and over again.

He rained kisses all over her face… her neck, the valley between her breasts, pushing them together and up towards his mouth as he licked and sucked over the mesh. He was a hungry soldier after a battle. A dying man gulping down his last meal, a man desperately crazy for the one girl that could give him what he needed. The sound of kissing and her ragged breathing filled the air… her fingers hooking in the waistband of his pants and pushing down as he pulled her slip down to spill her breasts and suck on them naked.

"Oh… god" She broke into a million pieces as he pulled on her nipples with his lips and swirled his tongue over the hardened nubs, shooting pleasure straight to her pussy.

"Vegeta…" She was going to explode… if he kept it up, which he would, she was going to cum and still hunger for more of what he had to give.

He gripped her ass and stroked the plump flesh with his thumbs, making her part her thighs wide and push her hips up against him. He let out a long pleasurable breath and groaned as he ground his pelvis against her. "Oh yes…" he hissed… anticipating the feel of her sex gripping his hard cock. The way she was going to come undone as he pierced her where she needed it most.

He was all glorious and all naked as he rubbed down against her, the tip of his cock pushing at the entrance of her lips… begging for a chance to slide in, if she only pleaded him to do so.

"Bulma… beg me to give it you."

"Vegeta… please!"

That's all he needed… he plunged deep and strong into her core till the base of his shaft hit her pussy lips, both shouting and shuddering in pleasure at the joy of rejoining. He lost control of his thoughts and his body as it moved out of its own volition, pounding against her hard and fast and unable to stop.

She whimpered at the feel of him, so thick and long and so very fulfilling. He was almost too big to take as she struggled with the bitter-sweet pain of his size. He hurt so good no woman could have asked for more, stretching her to the absolute fullest with every inch.

Her head was hanging off the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the unyielding muscles of his arms as she took the full force of his ramming. It must be killing him not to let go completely for fear of killing her with his power, but that master restraint was an absolute turn on.

"Bulma…" He repeated, lips against her neck, licking a hot trail to her mouth and engaging them into a messy kiss.

He broke out into a hot sweat… his muscles quivery, his penis entering her at an unnaturally high speed. God, if he came she was surely going to lose it.

She threw her head back and parted her lips abandoning herself to the mind-blowing pleasure of his body. He was going to split her in half any minute now. No woman had been fucked this intensely, this deliciously ever. Of that she was sure. "Yeah… yeah…" She gasped, clenched her pussy around him and screamed his name with all she had. She was stripped of the heiress exterior and of any inhibition. She was raw and she was human. That's the kind of thing he did to her.

She orgasmed so hard her mind went spinning. And no manner of cumming made him stop. He didn't let go or slow down as she came apart in his arms, he kept penetrating her through her orgasm, extending it out to the fullest.

"Yes please, touch me…"

"Again, say it." He breathed, grappling with his own need to let go and climax.

"Touch me." She said, consumed in the heat of her fire… feeling like she was surely going to die but she would gladly go to hell for him more than a million times.

He moaned and swiped his tongue over her breast, burying his face between her tits, nipping and licking her damp flesh before latching onto her mouth again.

He grabbed her breast in a firm grip, rubbed his thumb against the peak and let himself go, bucking against her as he shot his hot seed deep within her pussy. He roared his release, feeling like this was his first time ever, fully saturated with images of her as he crashed and burned against her body. The melding of their sweaty selves, both holding onto each other tight, produced a gorgeous friction that kept dragging out the explosion. And he went deep enough to lose himself.

She ran trembling fingers down over his arching back and hard butt. Her mouth parted as she watched him climb down from the cusp, his eyes closed and his face of absolute pleasure. Both sexes throbbing as they rubbed and squeezed the hell out of each other. When his mouth came down on hers she could have cried. His arms were strong as they locked around her, her legs doing the same around his hips. His cock buried so deep inside her she didn't think there was an inch of him that wasn't fused with her.

They lay in each other's arms, fully ensconced in the afterglow, his breathing still deep against her neck and his heart beating strong. Her hand stroked slowly over his spine, her legs sliding against his, enjoying the feel of male and power, but mainly…. enjoying the feel of him. She had unleashed a force of nature and she now held it in her palm and the knowledge of that was enough to make her smile.

"You make me happy." She said in the quiet of the night, her hand reposing on his back.

He didn't respond. He simply lay with her, lodged between her juice-slicked thighs, his nose buried against her neck.

Happy.

What a word, he thought. So unexpected and so foreign to him. What was happiness anyway?

Happy. Not frightened, repulsed or terrified. He'd always wondered what it felt like and how to find it. Happiness was revenge and the cry of war. It was absolute power and pride and the acknowledgement of others, but then again she made him doubt. Maybe happiness was this moment in time.

Bulma felt him shift above her and capture her lips in one long drawn kiss, his hand sweeping south to feel her every curve and stroke her ass. He slowly hardened inside her again, kindling a fire deep within her. She knew he would go on for hours, and that he wouldn't stop…not tonight. He was going to show her with actions what he felt, a man not of words but of deeds, as he always was. She'd be done long and hard, till her body was spent and his alien appetite satisfied.

She understood what it was like to be loved by him. Loved hard and without inhibitions… to be taken to the very edge and back and turned inside out in a dance of full passion. He was her anchor as he showed her pleasures unknown to men, and for one night he was probably right where she was. In that perfect, blissful place few ever found.


End file.
